Doom and the Wedding
by strandedthought
Summary: Manga Verse, Occurs sometime before Olivier meets Ed! 60 Days in the life of Olivier Armstrong. Day 40: Not So Fond Thoughts: Olivier can't help but be grumpy, especially since she's in Central while Mustang is at Briggs.
1. Procrastination

I don't own FMA.

**Day One - Mail**

Olivier Milla Armstrong was not a procrastinator. She got her work done in a timely manner, and all would have agreed with that if not for the two envelopes sitting in the corner of her desk. The two envelopes, one cream and one soft pink, had been in that exact location for over a week now.

Said officer looked up from her desk as a knock sounded on her door. "Enter" she called, her eyes focusing back on words scrawled on the sheet of paper in front of her after she recognized the shape looming in the foggy glass window of the door as one of her best subordinates.

"Afternoon, Sir," he grunted, footsteps echoing in the cement room.

She looked back up in time to catch his salute. "Buccaneer?" she responded, returning his salute.

"They're sending me letters now," he informed her.

"Hn?" she mumbled, feigning ignorance.

"It can't be that bad," he said, dropping an envelope on top of the document she was working on.

She narrowed her eyes hidden behind blond hair. "It can. Look it's covered in hearts and roses," she countered, drawing her sword and using the tip of it to shove the envelope in the direction of the others. "Get rid of them, use them for fuel in one of the furnaces," she ordered.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, scooping up the neglected envelops and turning to leave.

"And tell everyone else that I'll start the vasectomies if any more of those letters wind up on my desk," she told him before he closed the door.

"Yes, Sir," he answered.

Olivier smirked at the, now free of clutter, corner of her desk.

The last of her paper work was finished after a lunch of smoked elk, the last of it they had in the store room, and potatoes. She was getting ready to make her daily rounds of the fort when one of her newer recruits came up to her, making a shaky salute. "General Armstrong, Sir," he squeaked.

"Yes, Major?" she questioned.

"An urgent telegram, and mail from a Colonel Mustang of Eastern," he answered, extending the papers to her with a quivering arm.

"Thank you, Major. You may return to your duties now," she said, taking the papers from him and sticking them in her coat pocket.

When she got back to her office she held them in front of her smirking at the name on them. "Mustang, I wonder what kind of trouble you're in now. Maybe it will provide some entertainment," she mumbled, sliding the letter opener across the envelope.

Before pulling the letter from the envelope she read the telegram.

_Major General Armstrong,_

_I have enclosed some details about a situation in Central that needs your specific attention._

_Colonel Roy Mustang_.

She set the paper aside and pulled the documents from the envelope. To her dismay the papers did not contain a messy scrawl, but the flowery handwriting of her mother. She groaned and slammed her fist on her desk. "I'll get you for this Mustang." She grumbled, hand going to the hilt of her sword.

Her eyes widened with each new line of the letter she read. Her forehead met the desk in a sickening thud after she finished reading the letter.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Enter," she called, straightening up.

"I heard a loud noise," Buccaneer ventured.

"I'll be returning to Central for a few weeks. You'll be in charge," she informed him.

"Sir?" he raised an eyebrow.

"A wedding," she growled. "Arm-e is getting married to some fool named Allen," she explained. "Apparently I've already been given leave. My father still has his influence with the Fuhrer."

"We'll continue working as if you've never left," he reassured her.

"I know," she said, rising from her seat. "If anything happens send me word," she ordered, a glint of mischief in her eyes. She saluted him, and then left him alone in her office.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, watching her walk down the hallway to her inevitable doom.

A.N.-This is for the 60 Damn Prompts community on lj. 60 days in the life of Olivier. Each prompt is the day following the previous one. May contain implied adult content in later chapters. Possible OlivierxBuccaneer in future chapters. If you want to know a specific time it takes place in the manga, lets just say it's after Roy gets transferred to Central, but before Riza meets Barry. I don't know how this chapter got switched with the one-shot from Fruits Basket, that was weird.


	2. Don't Kill Anyone

I don't own FMA

2-Trance

'-,-'-,-'

Unlike her usual self, Olivier had waited until the last minute to leave her precious, cold fort and get to the train station. Buccaneer had insisted on driving her to make sure she arrived on time. Knowing his superior, and the murderous intent now focused on the back of his head, any of the other soldiers, aside from himself and Miles, would have turned the car back around before they'd even got halfway to the station.

"I never thought I'd see the day," he commented, eyes sparkling with the laughter he held back.

"If you weren't one of my best men, you wouldn't live to see the end of the day," she hissed after a few moments, the trance she had been in for most of the day broken by his words.

"The look on your face reminds me of the time I had to escort Miles' daughters home when they tried to sneak into the fort to surprise him on his birthday. They gave me the same exact look—cheeks puffed out, nostrils flared, a bit of a pout, arms crossed, and that same glare. Though, I'd have to say your gaze feels much fiercer than the both of theirs combined," he said, watching as she changed her expression with each trait he mentioned.

"I am not pouting," she said, bringing her arms to her sides and folding her hands in her lap.

"Not anymore," he laughed.

"Just watch the road," she snapped, nostrils flaring again.

"Yes, Sir," he said, hoping she couldn't see the smirk on his face in any of the mirrors.

They didn't talk for the short remainder of the car ride, but he was entertained by her effort to keep a stoic expression on her face until they arrived at the station.

He opened her door for her, against her wishes, and even managed to carry her luggage to the train without having to argue with her about it.

She took her time getting the ticket being held for her at the window, staring up at the cloudy sky while she waited in the longest line. Even after the woman in the booth told her the train was due to leave any minute she kept her pace to the train slow, dragging her feet along like lead weights.

"Acting like a child being punished again, eh?" Buccaneer asked from his spot beside her.

She uncrossed her arms and buried her fists in her pockets as she picked up her pace a bit. "No, I'm just tired," she argued.

"I'm sure you can get some rest on the train ride," he replied, watching her carefully for any signs of danger.

They were quiet again, until she started to board the train. Halfway up the steps realized she didn't have her luggage and turned to him.

Buccaneer found it a bit odd, not having to look down to meet her eyes, it was the first time they'd ever been completely eye level with each other.

The whistle of the train broke them both out of the strange trance they had fallen into.

"My luggage," she prompted, breaking eye contact to look down at the case he held.

"Right," he muttered, holding out the luggage to her expectant hand.

She grabbed the handle, but he didn't remove his hand. "Lieutenant," she said, giving the luggage a tug, and finally looked back up at him when he didn't release it. She narrowed her eyes at the cheeky grin on his face.

"Don't kill anyone, we're running out of stain free gloves," he told her, releasing his hold on the luggage as the train started to move.

When she didn't immediately turn and continue up the steps he waved to her. Unable to move the rest of her body she raised her free hand and waved back. After a moment her legs finally got the message to move, and she made her way into the hall of the car of the train she'd be in for the remainder of her trip.

Once in her own little cabin, alone due to her family's wealth and her own military rank, she relaxed as much as her body would allow on a train full of strangers and closed her eyes. Maybe he was right, and she would be able to get some rest on the train, but it certainly wouldn't be sleep. She would be in that state between the lands of the sleeping and waking world, the one she had made sure all of her subordinates knew how to access. As her own rule for soldiers, she never went fully to sleep in a place where she was surrounded by strangers. Her body would rest while she remained alert, and prepared herself for the inevitable family gathering.

'-,-'-,-'

A.N.-This brings day two to a close, and I made a minor mistake, but was able to recover from it. I had written this theme down as train, when it's supposed to be trance, and I first started writing for train, but I think it worked out well. Next theme is baby. If you haven't seen the Armstrong Family omake, I'll have a link at the bottom of my profile for it.

Thank you for reviewing: Dailenna, Yun Min, Legendary Chimera, and Bar Ohki.


	3. An Unwanted Guest

I don't own FMA

Theme 3-Baby

'-.-'-.-'

When the first thing to disturb her senses was the sunlight filtering through the east-facing window she had so intelligently forgotten to close the curtain of the night before, she knew it was the calm before the storm. Less than an hour later, sitting with her back flush against the cushioned wall, eyes closed, hands folded in her lap, and one leg crossed over the other the noise of the compartment door being slid open caused her hand to fly to the sword on the seat beside her as she opened her eyes.

She was about to get up and close the door, but a small gurgle sounded from the empty doorway. She looked down, and her eyes widened. Another strange gurgle/babble escaped the baby's—or was it toddler, she didn't care enough to know—lips. She was still for a moment, unsure of what to do. That was until the baby started to cross the threshold into her cabin in strange walk, stumbling with the movement of the train.

"No, this is my room, out!" Olivier commanded, unconsciously pointing the baby in the other direction with her sheathed sword.

The baby smiled and continued in her direction.

"No, you aren't cute or funny. Where are the people in charge of you?" she demanded, getting to her feet.

The baby didn't respond, but took a few more steps in her direction, and clung, much to Olivier's dismay, to her pants clad leg.

Olivier, thoroughly disgusted, held back the impulse to shake her leg free of the child, as she would do if it were a horny dog.

Not wanting to have drool, or even worse, mucus dry and crust on her uniform she set her sword down, doubled over, and hooked her hands under the babies armpits. She was glad to find the baby let go of her pants without a fight, but grimaced at the sight of the string of drool running from her pants to the baby's mouth. She watched it with a strange fascination, much like one watching a horror film, as it thinned and broke apart as she straightened, holding the baby as far away from herself as she could with two arms.

The baby let out another gurgle, which sounded strangely like the word "ma ma" and kicked her legs playfully.

"Well, if you won't tell me where the people in charge of you are, I'll have to go find someone to give you to," she grumbled.

She marched into the corridor and looked in both directions for any other form of life, nothing, not even a fly.

She was getting ready to cross into the other car of the train when she heard a strangled cry and the slamming of a cabin door. "My baby, my baby is missing," a woman shrieked. Olivier slowly turned to face the idiot of a woman as more doors flew open and heads peeked out of the separate cabins.

"There she is, she took my baby," the woman accused, pointing in Olivier's direction. Two men ran towards her, but stopped at the sound of her voice. "Why would I want such an abomination?" she asked, marching to the woman and dumping the baby in her arms.

"She's not an abomination!" the woman shouted, causing the baby to cry.

"No, she's not, you are—letting her wander off in the early morning hours, on a moving train. Mothers should be just as, if not more, alert than soldiers," Olivier replied, in a whisper meant only for the woman's ears. "And you made it cry. How am I supposed to relax now?" she complained as she walked back to her cabin and gently slid the door closed. This time she took care to hook the latch and close the curtains. She gave the darkened spot of drool on her pants an annoyed glare as she sat down.

As she let herself drift back into her state of half-consciousness, she considered the start of her first day of vacation a bad omen for the rest of it. In the North, one learned how to read signs—aching joints meant a drop in the temperature, a ring around the moon meant snow, the increase in the number of insects meant a rise in temperature. That baby was just the start of it.

'-.-'-.-'

A.N.- Word Count 719. Thanks for reading!

Thank you fro reviewing: Dailenna, Griselda Banks, Bar-Ohki, Ehxhfdl14, Kookith, Legendary Chimera, and Yun Min.


	4. Don't Dress for a Funeral

I don't own FMA

**Theme 4 - Funeral**

'-.-'-.-'

Olivier tried to sneak past her family (plus one) waiting at the train station in Central, but her idiot of a brother spotted her as she begun to walk in the other direction.

"Livi, we're over here!" he called, waving his arms flamboyantly, eyes sparkling.

"I told you she'd be wearing her uniform, Father," her youngest sister, Catherine quipped.

"She's even got her sword with her," Arm-e pointed out.

"She's not going to hurt him is she?" the unfamiliar man asked, looking up at Arm-e.

"No, they're just playing," her father answered, laughing at the spectacle Olivier and Alex were making.

"Back, no hugs," Olivier demanded, her sword flashing in the light.

"But Livi, I haven't seen you in ages," he said, standing just out of her sword's reach.

"And my sword hasn't cut anything in ages," she replied, getting ready to take another step forward.

"Now, Olivier, put that sword away. Alex, leave her alone. We have things to do today. And would you take off that coat? You look like you're going to a funeral with that expression on your face and black coat in the middle of spring," her mother said, taking a step towards her. "We'll have to stop by the house first, I don't want you carrying that thing around all day," she said, waving her hand at the sword sheathed at her daughter's hip.

"But, Dear, we can't ask her to do that. That's like asking Alex to leave his gauntlets at home. They're both part of the military, and if a situation occurs they're expected to step in, whether they are on or off duty," her father cut in.

"May I take that?" the unfamiliar man asked, holding his hand out for Olivier's suitcase.

"Who are you?" she asked, looking him up and down in judgment. He was only a few inches taller than her, seemed to have an athletic build, and was staring at her with sparkling green eyes. He must have been one of the newer valets, but he wasn't in any kind of uniform.

"Allen Walker, Arm-e's fiancé. Pleased to meet you. May I take your luggage and coat for you Miss Armstrong?" he asked again.

If her hand hadn't tightened around the handle on her luggage moments before to brace herself for him grabbing it, as all the valets would have done, she would have dropped it during his introduction. Arm-e's fiancé. There was something wrong with the picture. "No, I'll take it," she said, walking past him.

"Well, if she won't leave it at the house, then she'll just have to put that funeral coat back on to hide it," her mother ended the argument Olivier hadn't been paying attention to, but the word funeral had caught her attention.

She was staring at the distracting scene in front of her—the engaged couple holding hands. Arm-e's hand completely enveloped her fiancé's. She would have laughed, but she could feel her mother's intent, and irritated, gaze focused on her. She turned to face the tall stringy woman just as her name left those thin lips, "Olivier!"

"Hmm?" she asked, her mother's stern tone completely ineffective against her.

"So, which will it be? Wear the coat, or leave the sword at the house?" her father asked, rolling one of the curls on his beard between two fingers.

In answer she dropped her luggage and slowly pulled the coat back on. Her eyes glinted with amusement at her mother's frown of disapproval. _If this is anything like other weddings I've been forced to take part in it will be just as sour as a funeral, at least I'll be dressed appropriately._ She laughed at her own thoughts while she smoothed the fur collar of the coat.

She went to grab her suitcase again and follow her already retreating siblings and mother, but her hand only grasped air. Her other hand went back to the hilt of her sword while her narrowed eyes looked for the black case. She huffed and crossed her arms when she noticed Allen carrying it with the hand Arm-e wasn't currently occupying with hers.

"He does have some admirable qualities," her father laughed, patting her on the back.

She looked back at Arm-e's hand hiding Allen's and chuckled.

"She's always been a bit like mother," Olivier reflected, her steps matching her father's.

"Eh?" he asked tilting his head to the side.

"She's always been attracted to shorter men," she chuckled, returning the pat on the back he'd given her.

"I'm not short, I'm just not as tall as your mother. Not that you can say anything about height, Catherine is almost as tall as you," he teased.

"She's finished growing by now," Olivier answered. "Have you gotten shorter?" she joked back, measuring from the top of her head to the top of her father's, where a curled tendril sprung forward from his otherwise slicked back hair.

"You just wait and see, one day you'll start shrinking, too," he laughed, batting her hand away.

She swallowed her retort, and the smile that had been tugging at the corners of her mouth, when they got to the two cars, and everyone stood watching them.

"You'll come with us Olivier, we're going to be getting measurements taken for the dresses," her mother announced, gesturing to the car her three sisters stood in front of.

She inwardly groaned at the word dresses. "I'll be wearing my dress uniform to the ceremony, Mother," Olivier argued, mimicking the movements of the tall woman by placing her hands on her hips.

"Absolutely not, and that's fina—"

"Oh, it doesn't look like there's room for me in the car, I'll just go with them," Olivier cut off her mother and pulled open the door of the car her father had just started.

"Are you wearing a tuxedo, then?" her father inquired, staring at his defeated wife glaring at the funeral-goer who had just slammed the car door.

"No, but they can take my measurements for a new dress uniform," she replied, relaxing back into the leather seat. Now she could take off the coat she was beginning to regret wearing in the heat of Central's early spring.

Once they got inside the tuxedo shop she shed her coat and the standard jacket she wore beneath it, placing them on the coat rack. She stood still, and followed the instruction of the tailor as he measured her, making small talk when necessary. Eventually she emerged from the small room to find Allen sitting in the vestibule alone.

She grinned at him, the grin most of her subordinates knew to be afraid of, and took a seat on the bench next to him.

Allen grinned back at her, his eyes still sparkling. She bit back a laugh as she remembered her sister was also attracted to shiny things and scooted a bit closer to him.

His gaze grew confused and he moved down the bench away from her. She followed him. The process repeated until she had her prey trapped between herself and the coat rack which stood at the end of the bench.

"Why'd you decide on spring for the wedding?" she questioned, locking his wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Arm-e wanted to have it while the cherry trees are in bloom," he answered, meeting her fierce gaze without backing down.

She smirked. "So, you're a wimp giving in to whatever a woman asks," she concluded.

"No," he spoke up, "Making the woman I love happy does not make me a wimp."

"Good answer, but be warned, if you ever hurt my little sister I will be needing my coat to wear to your funeral," she threatened.

"I'd kill myself if I ever harmed her," he countered, removing himself from her grasp and making a smooth exit from his seat on the bench.

Her father and Alex finished up soon after that. She waited with her father while he made the first payment to the tailor, only half the money up front to guarantee everything was made properly.

"You're right, he does have a few admirable traits," Olivier said as they walked to the car where her brother and future brother-in-law waited. "I think I'll drop my sword off at the house—I don't feel like wearing my coat all day," she announced as she got into the car.

'-.-'-.-'

A.N.-word count 1393-the longest so far! Allen Walker is in no way made after the character from -Man, I just like the name. This one isn't as funny as the others, but I like the interaction with her family, which you will see more of. Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing: YourFavouitePlushie, Griselda Banks, Ehxhfdl14, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, Legedary Chimera, Bar-Ohki, Yun Min, Dailenna, and Kookith.


	5. A Mother's Wishes

I don't own FMA

**Theme 5: Birth**

**'-.-'-.-'**

There were certain things her mother just would not forget about, such as her wearing a dress to her sister's wedding.

No matter where she went after they got back from the tailor her mother had followed her like a shadow, better than any of her aides at Briggs—her mother would have to give them a lesson or two if she ever met them. It was times liked those she remembered why she had been so eager to get out of the high-society house and into the military.

Entering the academy had changed her life. There, she could cut men down with her sword and words instead of having to curtsy and bat her eyes at them. She didn't have to listen to idle gossip about the most promising bachelors in town or mindless relationships. No, in the academy they talked about guns, skill, intelligence, swordsmanship, and the future of the country. Only a few men recognized her, but it didn't take long for them to acknowledge her skills as a soldier.

Now, waking up for the first time in years in her old room she felt like she was back to where she had been weeks before signing her life away to the military—practicing her fencing in the backyard, cooking her own meals and eating them in the kitchen, because her mother wouldn't search there, waking up early for her workouts, and going to bed early.

Olivier was up before the sun, and standing outside her bedroom door was her mother, with an itinerary for the day.

While she ate her breakfast, her mother entered the kitchen with swatches of fabric. She ignored the fabrics being held up to the bare skin of her fore-arms and savored the food made by professional cooks, even the coffee was amazing. "Thank you," she told the kitchen staff, all of whom had been waiting for the blue eyed woman to snap at their mistress.

"I wanted to have them use a different color, but the one that goes best with your pale skin is the same as your uniform," her mother sighed.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Olivier announced.

"I didn't go through false labor five times in the last month of pregnancy with you, and then spend sixteen hours in labor when you'd changed your mind and didn't want to come out, only to have them have to perform cesarean and take you out for you to refuse to wear a dress to your sister's wedding," her mother huffed.

"You should have noticed then that I'm stubborn," Olivier replied, continuing down the hallway while her mother remained rooted in the same spot.

"I'll just get your measurements from the tailor," her mother called.

"That doesn't mean I'll wear it," Olivier shot back, rounding the corner.

Once safely in her room she retrieved her sword and decided to go practice in the back yard. She opened her closet to grab a light jacket and frowned. It was still full of those ridiculous dresses she had been forced to wear.

She quickly closed the door on the frilly pink clothes, but opened it back up just as quickly.

A smirk spread on Olivier's face when she saw her mother walking as quickly as she could towards her spot in the small thicket of trees she was practicing in.

"Oh, is it time to go pick out the flowers yet?" Olivier asked, slicing at her target hanging from an oak tree.

"No, but what do you think you're doing to those dresses?" her mother snapped, using a pair of scissors to cut the strings the filled dress nearest to her hung from.

"I thought I'd put them to good use. I won't be wearing them anymore," Olivier explained, using her sword to lop off the faceless, dirt head of one of the filled dresses in example. "Having Alex around to help every now and then isn't so bad," she said, explaining how she'd been able close the bottom of each dress and fill it with dirt in a matter of minutes.

"Why I…I didn't—"

Olivier cut off her stuttering mother, "I know you didn't give birth to me for however many hours just for me to cut up dresses, but you should have realized I'd be stubborn from the very start."

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-Olivier teaming up with Alex! XD Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing: InuJoey, Griselda Banks, Ehxhfdl14, Bar-Oji, Crystal Mage, Yun Min, Dailenna, MyFouvouitePlushie, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, Legendary Chimera, and Kookith.


	6. Never Leave Your Weapon

I don't own FMA.

**Theme 6 - Wedding**

**'-.-'-.-'**

Olivier navigated her way through the crowd and found herself a seat in one of the emptier rooms of the first floor. She would go to her room for the night, but she refused to leave the engagement party early after the little challenge her mother had issued earlier in the day when she'd come to remind her the party started in less than an hour.

"_Why I'm bothering to tell you to dress properly, I don't know. I doubt you'll even stay downstairs long enough for anyone to notice."_

Olivier took a long sip of her vodka, relishing in the slight burning sensation it caused at the back of her throat. She set her glass down noiselessly on the maroon-clothed table. To say this room was emptier than others was true, but emptier did not mean empty by any means, it was still crowded full of people holding a high status in society. Men wearing their most expensive suits, silk ties, and cuff links made of rare gems. Women with their delicate hair styles, layers of perfectly, painted, make-up, sparkling fingers, necks, and wrists, polished nails, expensive shoes, and designer dresses. Olivier chuckled to herself as she watched people mingle with their hollow laughs, exaggerated smiles, and dramatic hand gestures.

She frowned as her laugh caught the attention of a couple close to her.

"Oh, Honey, it's the oldest," the woman informed him, pointing in Olivier's direction.

Suddenly, people were migrating towards her. She stood in attempt to leave the room, but was surrounded before she took her first step. She silently cursed herself for agreeing to leave her trusted companion sheathed in her room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Novick," a man her father's age introduced, extending his hand to her.

"Major General Olivier Armstrong," she supplied, shaking his hand. The name was slightly familiar, maybe one of her father's friends.

She repeated the process, re-acquainting herself with people she had gone to school with, friends of her parents, and their families. They were all smiling at her like they'd met a long lost friend, her own frown stayed in place.

"To think you've kept your family name. So terribly sorry I missed your wedding," a woman she knew from school gushed.

"I didn't have a wedding," Olivier replied.

"Oh, you eloped?" the woman's husband inquired.

"No, I'm not married," Olivier explained, enunciating each word clearly for the couple to understand.

A gasp shot through the people gathered around her.

"I thought it was Armstrong tradition for the eldest to be married first," another woman, older, commented.

"Traditions are easily broken," Olivier scoffed.

"You and that Mustang boy were such a cute pair when you were children," Mrs. Novick said.

"Yes, I thought it would be the case of opposites attracting," Mr. Novick commented.

Olivier laughed.

"It would have been a great wedding. Two high-ranking officers from high class families," a brunette at the edge of the circle rambled.

"Did someone call me?" a voice called.

Olivier turned, her light blue eyes meeting his dark ones. She smirked, and he frowned.

"They're just talking about our wedding." Olivier explained, waiting for the group to draw him into their circle.

"W-we-wedding?" he asked, face a bit paler than usual.

"Oh, yes, it would have been amazing," the brunette went on, her green eyes sparkling at her day dream.

"See, you two make a stunning pair," Mrs. Novick asserted, curling her slender fingers around Roy's arm, and dragging him into the circle.

While the others were discussing the details of the make-believe wedding Roy sidled up next to Olivier. "What did you tell them?" he hissed.

"Oh, just something I like to call revenge. Your letter is the only reason I'm here," she sneered. "I need to go freshen up," she announced to the crowd, which instantly parted for her.

She shot Roy a smug look while she grabbed her glass and left the circle, which enclosed around him.

She could hear Roy's muffled voice stammering about the fraternization laws when someone asked him why he didn't pursue a relationship with her and laughed. Her eyes focused on a blonde hanging back in the shadows of the room. "So, I'm not the only one who dressed practically. You'd be wearing pants, but you've got a gun under that don't you?" she asked, motioning to the long, slit skirt.

"Yes, Sir," the sharpshooter answered, her eyes never leaving the crowd Roy had been engulfed by.

"He'll come out of there alive, Lieutenant, stunned and a bit confused, but alive," Olivier laughed, moving from her spot next to the worried woman, and leaving the room.

She made her way to the main room and traded her empty glass for water. After careful inspection she found room full of people she didn't recognize, probably people Allen and his family knew, and sat down in a comfortable black chair in a dark corner.

The remainder of the party was uneventful, that was until after it was over. Once the last of the guests had gone home she found herself cornered by the rest of her family.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Alex blurted out.

"What exactly didn't I tell you?" Olivier replied.

"That you and Colonel Mustang have been secretly in love since before he left to go study alchemy," Catherine cried, her eyes sparkling.

"Exchanging coded love letters through mail," Arm-e added.

"Making wedding plans," Strong-ko spoke up.

Olivier could feel the vein in the side of her face pulsating. "I don't know who your source is, but that couldn't be further from the truth," she growled.

"You don't have to lie to us, we won't tell anyone," her mother said, grinning from ear to ear.

"The only thing Roy Mustang is good for is sharpening my blade on. I'm going to my room, and if I hear anymore of this ridiculous lie, I will cut off the tongue of the one who mentioned it," she threatened as she shoved past them and stormed up the stairs.

"I told you it wasn't true," she heard her father say through his laughter.

In her room, she stared at her sword leaning against a bedpost. "I'll take you everywhere from now on," she vowed.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.- 1,034 words. Poor Olivier...poor Roy. I couldn't help dragging him into this one, and where Roy goes you'll find Riza. Thanks for reading.

Thank you for reviwing: Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Bar-Ohki, Ehxhfdl14,YourFavouitePlushie, Griselda Banks, InuJoey, Crystal Mage, Yun Min, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	7. Swordplay

I don't own fma

**Theme 7 - Understanding**

**'-,-'-,-'**

There were certain things one should not attempt, especially without knowing all the facts, and Olivier usually knew better.

-0200 HOURS

"Oh, that dress looks perfect on you, Arm-e," Catherine squealed, as her older sister executed a turn for all to view the dress from every angle.

"My darling, Arm-e, Allen won't be able to talk when he sees you," her mother exclaimed.

Olivier watched from the corner, one leg crossed over the other, using the end of her blade to bounce her foot. She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth as Strong-ko placed the veil atop Arm-e's head, a single curled lock refusing to stay put under the crown of fabric.

Olivier hid her chuckle of amusement as the four female members of her family attempted to smooth the golden lock back.

"I can cut it off for you," she offered, removing her foot from the tip of the covered blade, and brandishing her trusted companion.

"After what you did to Alex, never," her mother shouted. "Now put that thing away and go try on your dress uniform at the tailor. You father should be here any minute with the car," she ordered.

"It doesn't look bad," called Olivier over her shoulder as she marched out of the boutique, hand raised to cover her eyes from the harsh rays of sunlight. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath, the sunlight shouldn't have been much of a problem for her, considering she was used to it reflecting off the snow covered ground, maybe direct sunlight was different.

Minutes later she raised her eyebrow at Alex as he scrambled out of the front passenger seat and held the door open for her. When he showed no sign of moving she gave the slightest hint of a bow of thanks and took the seat he had previously been occupying. "Why did you take so long?" she asked her father while watching Alex clamber into the backseat—really such a big man in such a tiny vehicle.

"Oh, just out doing manly things," came her father's vague reply as he pulled out into traffic, no bothering to check the street before hand.

Despite her fear of the way he maneuvered the vehicle she chuckled at his comment. "Manly things, such as showing off your muscles?" she inquired.

"No, some alchemy practice for Alex, you know he's going to make ice sculptures for the wedding, and Allen showed us his swordplay," her father replied.

A scoff sounded from Olivier as she looked back at Allen, clutching the arm rest of the seat.

"He isn't half-bad," her father murmured, pulling to the side of the road with a screech of the brakes.

Olivier wasn't the only one to throw open the car door as soon as it was stopped and make her way into the shop.

With the orders of the two tailors in the shop, Olivier and Allen walked back to the fitting rooms with the prepared articles of clothing. After a few minutes of standing without moving a millimeter, for desire of not being poked by a needle while being prodded, she was able to get back into her pantsuit, and take the same seat she had occupied on the bench in the vestibule just day's before. Soon enough, Alex left and Allen joined her.

-0130 HOURS

Recognizing the stunt he was pulling on her as the tactic she had used against him, she didn't move when he sat down right next to her, invading all personal space on her right side.

"Arm-e would appreciate it if you wore a dress to the ceremony," he informed her, watching her right hand as it moved across to her left side.

"And I would appreciate it if no one said anything further about me wearing a dress," she muttered.

"Understood. I'll have a word with Arm-e if you beat me at a fencing match," Allen suggested, holding out his hand to hers for a shake to seal the deal.

"If I don't?" she asked, wearily—there was always a catch.

"You wear a dress," he stated.

"When?" she asked, shaking his hand confidently.

"Four, in the backyard," he suggested.

"I'll be there," she agreed, letting go of his hand, and standing.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"Practice."

And she did practice, using what was left of the dress wearing, dirt golems Alex had made, but not for long, because she kept picturing Allen trying to hold a sword properly, which only resulted in a fit of laughter.

0000 HOURS

Olivier stared incredulously at the green-eyed man holding his own sword at her chest.

"Bravo, Allen," her father cheered from the sidelines.

She narrowed her eyes at the man staring at the scene in amusement.

"You'll wear a dress then?" Allen asked, not moving from his stance.

"I never go back on my word," she hissed, still reaching for her sword, stuck just inches out of her grasp in the tree.

After withdrawing his sword, he stretched, the few inches he had over her giving him the ability to reach her sword, and pulled hers out of the trunk of the tree. "That's a fine blade," he commented as he handed it back to her.

He didn't catch what she mumbled under her breath as she walked away, but behind her back his soon to be father-in-law was giving him a cheeky grin.

Olivier waited inside for her father, and when he finally walked in with Allen at his side she pulled him away from his conversation, down a hallway, and into one of the smaller rooms on the floor.

"I thought you sent me to the best school," she exclaimed, throwing herself down in one of the puffy armchairs.

"In Armestris. Allen lived in Xing half his life, didn't you notice his family wasn't exactly pure Armestrian?" he inquired, sitting down in a chair across from her, with more grace than she'd exhibited since arriving in Central.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew his family was different, and no wonder they hadn't spoken to her much when she hid during the party, they didn't speak the language well.

"I thought you knew not to jump into a battle without knowing more about your adversary," he joked.

"I do, I just didn't," she huffed, cutting her sentence short.

"So, you'll be wearing a dress now," he teased.

"I never go back on my word," she persisted, crossing her arms.

"An Armstrong never does," he commented. "Oh, and I'll make sure your mother doesn't bother you about it. She didn't even know about the bet, or deal as you two called it," he told her.

"Fine, I'll go have the ridiculous thing fitted tomorrow while everyone else is picking out which color to use for tablecloths, or, I don't know some other trivial thing mother mentioned on that list of hers," Olivier told him, getting up from her chair.

On her way up to her room, all she could think of was learning those Xingese swordplay techniques.

**'-,-'-,-'**

A.N.-Word Count: 1,177. So, if you're wondering what incident her mother is referring to with the "Not after what you did to Alex," line go check out Dailenna's fic: _The Life of Olivier Milla Armstrong_ more specifically chapter four. I just couldn't refuse making her wear a dress. You'll find out why in much later chapters! X3 Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing: Griselda Banks, Legendary Chimera, Yun Min, TammerTime, CrystalMage, Bar-Ohki,Ehxhfdl14, Dailenna, YourFavouitePlushie, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kokith.


	8. It's Not Unusual

I don't own FMA

**Theme 8 - Kiss**

**'-.-'-.-'**

Both her father and Allen had been sending expectant glances at her all day—through the two hours of choosing the "perfect" fabric and color for the table cloths during the reception, which still ended in indecision, an hour and a half of flipping through illustrations of hair styles, for all of them sans Alex, and now as they toured the grand hall of Rowling's Inn too see if it was up to par for the reception.

Olivier groaned as her mother pulled out the three sample pieces of fabric they'd gotten earlier and compared them to the golden butter-cream paint on the walls. By the clucking sound her that came from her mother's mouth and the way she shoved the fabrics back in her handbag this certainly wasn't going to be the place they'd decide on.

She was starting to remember what it felt like to shop with her mother—the pressure that built up in the back of her head, sounds mashing together, the film of fog dulling her surroundings, and the weight of her eyelids, fighting to stay closed each time she blinked.

She barely kept her footing when her father nudged her. "When are you going to go?" he whispered.

She slowly turned her head in his direction, her vision slightly obscured by hair and the film of fog. "What was that?" she asked, her senses clearing as they walked back out to the streets.

"When are you going to go to the boutique?" he asked, his whisper a bit louder than the first one.

"I need-did they just? Again?" Olivier asked, her voice a bit louder than her father's whisper.

"Pardon," her father replied, utterly confused.

"They kissed. Out in public!" Olivier exclaimed, scrunching her face up in disgust. There was one thing that disgusted her more than her first sip of coffee at Briggs, and that was public displays of affection that surpassed a quick hug or holding hands. Not only had Arm-e leaned over once to kiss him, but twice.

"Really, your private life should stay private! What are you two going to be doing next, groping each other in public," Olivier fumed.

"Why, I never!" her mother cried, holding a hand over chest, as if she'd just had a heart attack.

"But, Livi, they're in love!" Alex exclaimed, the emotion in his eyes causing them to sparkle.

"I'm going to leave, before I get sick," Oliver announced, making her exit by walking between the blushing couple.

"Just don't stay out too late, darling," her father called, waving enthusiastically to her back.

The crowd on the sidewalk quickly parted for Olivier as she walked by grumbling to herself about couples using love to excuse their inappropriate acts in such public places.

By the time she had gotten to the dress shop she had doled out enough glares to passers-by to alleviate a fraction of her frustration. She held her head high as she entered the boutique of certain doom.

The seamstress quickly recognized her name, and took her to the back, where sure enough a dress nearly the color of her uniform was waiting to be fitted. She silently cursed her mother for her unfailing hope that she would wear a dress.

Exactly what she wanted to do during her vacation—sport a dress, and while doing so leave herself in the hands of a stranger with a mouthful of needles.

After a few minutes of pinning fabric here and there, the woman looked up at her. "Is something wrong, hun'? Just let me know, I can fix anything you don't like," she volunteered, her voice a bit of a mumble through her gritted teeth.

"It's not the dress. Honestly, it's partly the dress, but I dislike all dresses," Oliver brushed her off.

"Well then, what's bothering you?" she asked, pulling another pin from between her teeth.

Olivier gave her a rather put off look and crossed her arms.

"Now, don't go moving on me like that, I don't want to stick you. I can't promise you I can fix your problem if it doesn't concern the dress, but I can listen, and trust a woman twice your age, just telling someone about it can help," she insisted, pins moving up and down ever so slightly with each syllable that passed between her clenched teeth.

Olivier considered the offer, and decided to tell the woman, at least they could relate on one level—working with sharp pointy objects day in and day out.

The woman listened to her quick synopsis of the event and her outlook about the public display of affection while diligently going about her work of noting the miniscule adjustments that would make the difference between a stunning and ordinary gown. She looked up at the blonde before her and smiled, showing the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. "It's not so unusual to see that nowadays as it was when I was growing up," she began, taking the remaining pins out of their place inbetween her teeth. Her voice came across more clearly as she continued, "One day it'll change for you, just you wait. Now, go on, I know you're itching to get out of that dress."

Olivier would have snorted at the woman's comment about her point of view changing, but she forgot about it when she was told she could change out of the dress mocking her for the deal she'd made.

Back in her pantsuit, with her dearest friend at her side, she left the shop and made her way home hoping her eyes wouldn't be victim to anymore displays of saliva exchanges that the seamstress had told her were becoming more common to see in the open these days.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-Word Count: 955, and to think I was going to stop at 447. I feel so evil for making her wear a dress, and I think I'm running out of hiding places. Just so you know, her regular outfit while in Central is a pantsuit. Erm...no offense to kisses, though some are a bit too much in public, not that kisses between Arm-e and Allen were anything more than a sweet chaste gesture. Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing: Whxhfdl14, Griselda Banks, Bar-Ohki, Yun-Min, Crystal Mage, Tammertime, YouFavouitePlushie, Dailenna, Legendary Chimera, InuJoey. The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	9. Drop Your Weapon

I don't own FMA

**Theme 9 -Police**

**'-.-'-.-'**

Olivier had woken up at precisely 0530 hours, just like every other morning since she had first started in the academy. To say she was surprised not to find an itinerary for the day in the pink envelope that had been slid underneath her door, but a note informing her that the expectation of heavy rains had canceled their tours of various gardens would be a massive understatement. If she had been more awake a laugh of joy would have escaped her lips.

Upon trashing the letter she, for the first time since she was a child, crawled back into bed. These past few days had been more trying and tiring than a week long battle with Drachman warriors had ever been.

Upon waking up more than three hours later, she went about her usual morning routine—breakfast, training, and shower, though her shower came a bit early with the rain that interrupted her training in the backyard.

After pulling on her "funeral" coat, she left the vacant house and traveled the streets she once knew so well. Her walk was uneventful until she happened across a man running from a couple shouting for the aid of the military police.

It only took a fraction of a second for Olivier to connect the purse the fleeing man was clutching to the distraught couple.

Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword as she dashed through the crowd after him. She caught up to him quickly, all the while thinking about ways to vent her frustration on him, and cornered him when he turned down a alley that lead to a dead end.

She watched him halt at the old brick wall, his head moving from side to side as he searched for an exit.

A smirk lit her face as he turned and stared her in horror at her sword glinting in the soft light of the street lamps.

She counted each drop of water that slid off the end of her blade while he mumbled incoherently, clutching the purse in his scarred hands.

"Give me the purse," she ordered, holding out her left hand to him.

After he shook his head in noncompliance she took a step closer, extending her blade a bit further. "What I hate more than a weak woman is a man who'll steal for a living," she explained, stopping the end of her blade millimeters from his scraggly beard.

"You there, drop your weapon, this is the military police!" a shout bounced off the walls.

"And let the suspect get away?" she questioned.

"We'll handle it, drop you weapon," came the reply.

Full compliance was not part of her agenda, she did lower her sword, but instead of dropping it she placed the tip on the ground, holding it like a cane. "What are you waiting for? At this rate, he'll get away," she called, watching the man trying to scramble up the brick wall.

"Release your weapon, ma'am," the voice called again, she could hear the officer coming closer, and another officer not far behind him, they're feet shifting the loose gravel beneath them.

It only took a few moments for the first officer to walk into her line of vision, gun pointed at the man attempting to flee. The second officer stopped just out of her sword's reach and trained his own aim on her.

After the criminal was put into cuffs, they both turned on her. "Ma'am, you'll have to come with us to the station for disobeying the direct orders of an officer," the man who hadn't spoken yet said, his deep voice not matching his short, stringy body.

"You sword," the other demanded, holding his hand out for the weapon.

"Your firearm," she mimicked him in an equally demanding tone.

"Don't make us call backup ma'am," the other threatened.

"You can call your unit leader here, but you won't get my sword," she vowed, sheathing the sharpened steel.

With her response a shot was fired into the air, and minutes later more men showed up in the alleyway.

"Really, if I was an enemy you'd be dead by now," she reasoned.

"Hand over the sword, or we'll shoot," the one who'd fired the gun told her.

"I doubt shooting a Major General would look good on your record," she scowled.

"Ma-Major General?" he asked doubtfully.

"If you hadn't been so hasty and disagreeable I would have been able to say so earlier," she explained.

"Prove it," the officer challenged.

"Do you not recognize a military coat?" she asked, exasperated. "Go get your unit lead," she demanded when he gave her a blank stare.

She waited patiently, leaning ever so slightly on her companion, and pulling her fur lined hood up when the rain started back up.

A smirk lit her face as she watched the men surrounding her shift uncomfortably, looking from her to the officer she'd been arguing with.

The small crowd parted for a tall man to pass through.

"What's the situation?" he barked.

"We found her holding this thief at sword point. She won't hand over her weapon, Sir. Claims she is a Major General," the officer answered, giving a salute to his superior.

"Did you ask for identification?" he asked.

"I asked for proof," he answered.

"And?" his superior inquired.

"She said her coat should be proof enough."

The man looked over to her, and his eyes widened a bit. "A soldier from Briggs?"

She nodded, her hood sinking further down her face

"Name?" he asked, pulling a small blue book with the military's insignia on the cover from his pocket.

"Armstrong," she hissed, watching him flip to the back of the book and thumb forward.

Closing the book, he looked up at her for a moment, his eyes traveling from her concealed face to her weapon of choice. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Sir," he apologized, snapping to attention and saluting.

After she'd given him permission to be at ease he turned to his subordinates and stared them down, waiting for the instigating pair to step forward.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding, Major General Armstrong," the replied in unison, giving half-hearted saluted in the downpour.

"And thank you for holding the suspect until my team got here," the unit lead said.

Olivier walked away without another word. Her lips turned upward in delight when she heard the awe running through the crowd of officers as they came to the conclusion that she was the famed, impenetrable cliff of Briggs.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.- Word Count: 1,080. Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing: Ehxhfdl14, Griselda Banks, Crystal Mage, Bar-Ohki, Yun Min, Tammertime, Dailenna, YouFavouitrPlushie, Legendary Chimera, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	10. Making a List

I don't own FMA

Theme 10 - Insanity

'-.-'-.-'

Despite the rainstorm the day had been going much more smoothly than the rest of her week.

The colors of the wedding had finally been decided, a rich purple and deep maroon, the purple being one of the colors Allen's clan in Xing claimed as their own and maroon one of Arm-e's favorite colors. They decided to hold the ceremony and reception at one of the houses on the outskirts of town that had been in the Armstrong family for decades.

Why they couldn't have thought of that solution before dragging her from building to building she didn't know, but she definitely wanted to hurt them for it, especially since she kept thinking about having to wear that stupid dress. Skirts were only good for one thing, and not for her, because her weapon of choice was not a gun.

A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of it, and she closed her eyes envisioning herself slicing it up the day after the wedding.

"Are you cold?" Catherine asked from her seat beside her.

"No," she answered, refusing to look at the fluffy pink bundle that was her sister. The car grew silent again, and Olivier wiped the fog off the window with the sleeve of her coat, watching the dampened country-side whiz by.

"You're going to meet us for dinner, right," Catherine asked.

"For the seventh time, yes," Olivier barked.

She should have known, or at least gotten the idea that some insane plot was being set in motion with all the concern over her appearance at dinner, one she had been making without tardiness or complaint every night she'd been there.

Everything had been going well, until the storm ended, and the driver pulled to a stop in front of the ritzy restaurant she couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. Once inside the restaurant, a woman greeted her, "Good evening, Miss, may I take your coat?"

Olivier gently slid the black wool off her arms and handed it to the woman. "A-and your, uh, sword, too, please," the woman stuttered, holding out her hand.

Olivier only gave a short incoherent grumble of irritation as she unbuckled the belt and handed it to the stunned brunette.

As soon as she got the ticket in return she walked up to the hostess who was flipping through a book at her podium. "Reservations for Armstrong," she announced.

The redhead looked up at her and smiled. "Oh, he's waiting for you. Got here early. Quite the looker if you ask me," she rambled, twirling a red curl around her finger as she grabbed a menu from a shelf inside the podium. "Right this way," she announced, gesturing for Olivier to follow her into the dimly lit restaurant.

"You've gotten me confused with someone else. I said Armstrong, a-r-m-s-t-r-o-n-g," she spelled out for the hostess, remaining at her place in the vestibule.

"No, Armstrong for two, that's all I have. He's nervous, too, so don't worry about being shy. Now, c'mon, he's waiting," she prompted, waving her on with the menu.

With her dark mood building she decided to follow the hostess, if only to get a laugh out of grilling poor man who sat at her table.

"That's him, there," she pointed out a man sitting at a small booth across the room.

All she saw from the back was a head of blond hair and bouquet of pink carnations on the table top. The man was picking at the paper wrapped around the stems while he waited for her to join him.

"Someone is going to die after I chase him off," she mumbled, narrowing her eyes as they got closer to the table and the mystery man, who had now moved on to inspecting the wine menu.

He twirled the plastic-covered paper between his index and middle finger, raising his other hand to call for the waiter. In doing so, he turned to look for said waiter and spotted Olivier.

Olivier smirked as he stood and snapped into salute at the sight of her, his blue eyes full of question.

"So, they've pulled the wool over your eyes, too? She inquired, sitting in the seat across from his, but he kept his stance, turning around to follow her movements.

"Major General Armstrong, Sir," he greeted in half question.

"Yes, yes, now quit with the formalities and sit. I am out of uniform, as are you," she ordered.

"Has something happened to Catherine?" he asked as he followed her orders.

"That is who you were expecting. It would seem my brother has a skill of leaving out bits of the truth I never knew of before now," she explained.

"So, you are my date?" he asked, slowly piecing together her words.

"It would seem so," she hissed, raising her hand for the waiter's attention. Apparently, the redhead had left sometime during their greeting.

"Th-then these are for you," he stammered, bouquet of pink shaking with his hand as he held it out to her. "If I had known it wasn't Catherine I would have gotten a different color," he muttered, studying the beads of water rolling down his water glass.

Olivier looked at the offending pink buds in disgust and then to the unfortunate Lieutenant's face. Her icy blue eyes softened ever so slightly when she realized he was sweating just as much as the glass his eyes were glued to. "Let us plan our revenge on my family over the dinner they are paying for," she suggested, placing the carnations on the cushioned bench beside her. She raised her hand again, snapping when no waiter looked in their direction.

Havoc looked up at her, shocked that she had taken the bouquet, let alone stayed in her seat across from him.

They left the restaurant with less formality than they had greeted each other and fewer inhibitions weighting their tongues.

"Well, if you ever get tired of chasing after Hawkeye, we could use someone like you at Briggs," Olivier commented, pink petals littering the sidewalk as she sent him stumbling forward a few steps with a pat on the back.

Havoc looked at her with his face contorted into an expression of confusion. "Hawkeye?" he asked.

"Don't look at me like that you fool, it's obvious. I do know about those kind of things, even if most people don't believe it," she admitted, brandishing the bouquet as if it were proof.

"It'd never work with Mustang here," Havoc slurred, a bit more inebriated then the woman with the sword.

"Eh, I can always fix that," she suggested, her eyes sparkling, with not only the usual excitement common to those of the Armstrong name, but also with glints of mischief.

Havoc looked over at her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "I don't know about that. He's persistent."

She threw her head back and laughed at his response. "So am I," she shot back, sending him stumbling again with one of her pats to his back. She stared at the shower of pink petals for a second before turning focusing back on their conversation. "My family is first, do you remember the plan?"

"You slice, I shoot?" he inquired.

"Right, good man. I've got to book my train first," she said, turning around to walk in the other direction.

"Train's this way," Havoc said, grabbing her arm, turning her to the right, and pulling her across the empty street.

"My family is insane," she commented, pulling away from his grasp, but still following him.

"I've never heard truer words," he agreed.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-Word Count: 1265. This makes me think Barry and Olivier need to meet, they'd make great friends! The little hint of Havocai is influenced by an icon Dailenna uses on the RoyAi forums ((link on my profile)). Anyways, I'm going to be catching up to the couple days I missed. I really wanted to get all my fics updated, but things came up DX Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Thank you for reviewing: Griselda Banks, InuJoey, Ehxhfdl14. Crystal Mage, Legendary Chimera, Bar-Ohki, TammerTime, Yun Min, YourFavouitePlushie, Dailenna, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	11. The Day After

I don't own FMA

**Theme 11 - Impossible **

**'-.-'-.-'**

She woke up in her room, cuddling close to her sheathed sword with a ticket crumpled inside her fisted hand.

The raising of her head from her silk-covered pillow caused her memory of the previous night to flood back. Apparently, their plans for revenge had come to a halt after the purchasing of her train ticket when she'd given him a hearty pat on the back which caused him to kiss the pavement and add some blood to the still damp cement.

He was a hell of a lot calmer than she'd ever be in that case. If the situation was reversed she probably would have given him a bloody nose in return.

She shot out of bed as she remembered the rest of the night. He'd forgotten how to get to the hotel he was staying at, and after stumbling around Central for a while she told him to stay at their house, in the room next to hers. There was absolutely no way she could let anyone find out, or else they'd be hounding her about it until she died.

Opening the door a few inches she looked down the hallway, when no one was there she darted out of the room, and into the one next to her.

"Havoc," she hissed, walking over to the bed in the dark. No answer, she stood over the bed, but no one was in it, it didn't even look like anyone had slept there. She walked over to the entrance of the room and flipped the light switch. Not a wrinkle marred the bedding. One the small table beside the bed was a paper with her name on it and a box of cigarettes. She chuckled at the note he left saying they should go out drinking again sometime and reminding her about the train ticket she'd left in her room. "I should get these back to him," she told herself, dropping the half empty box of cigarettes into the pocket of the coat she was still wearing from the night before.

When she got back to her room an itinerary was waiting for her, but all she did was tear it up. She didn't bother with her daily training, but packed her suitcase, showered, and crept to the kitchen. While she was eating she made a note to her parents, letting them know she left, and then got a driver to get a car started.

She was glad for her thick coat when she stepped outside into the cold weather, her body already accustomed to the warmer weather she'd gotten the first few days there.

Her first stop was H.Q. where she easily found the office Mustang and his crew were occupying during their little trip to Central, which was thankfully empty. She left the pack of cigarettes on the mahogany desk she guessed was his from the ash tray in the corner, and then left the building before anyone knew she was there.

When she got to the train station her face fell. It was closed. She went inside to investigate only to find her family waiting there. Apparently they woke up much earlier than she thought they did.

"What's the meaning of this, Olivier?" her mother asked.

"I'm done. I'll come back before the wedding," Olivier answered.

"You can't leave," her mother said.

"And why not," Oliver snapped.

"The tracks froze over, and there was a small accident," Alex told her. "I'll be going to help repair them."

"Fine," Olivier huffed and turned to walk away. "But don't think you can send me out on dates and drag me along with you everywhere," she called as she left the train station.

"That's right, you must have had fun last night. You didn't get home until everyone was asleep," Catherine chimed.

"Did you have fun with Lieutenant Havoc?" Alex asked, waltzing up beside her.

"I got blood on my favorite blouse," she answered with a smirk.

"Blood, why?" Alex panicked.

"Don't worry, it's not mine," she told him as she put her suitcase back in the car waiting for her, and then rested her hand on the hilt of her sword while looking her brother in the eye.

Her smirk grew when his eyes widened, and she climbed into the car.

"Take me back to the house," she commanded.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-Word Count: 705 Sorry about the lack of updates for the past week. I've got family in town, and then the wait for chapter 78 drove me crazy. I wish we could have gotten some Olivier action, but I guess I'll have to wait until next year. Thanks for reading. Dialog "'Don't worry, it's not mine'" credited to Dailenna, thanks!

Thank you for reviewing: Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Griselda Banks, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, Ehxhfdl14, Crystal Mage, Yun Min, Bizzy, InuJoey, YunMin, TammerTime, YourFavouitePlushie, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	12. One True Love

I don't own FMA

**Day 12 - Love**

**'-.-'-.-' **

They'd stopped pestering her for a day, but she wasn't lucky enough to get away from them for a second one. No, her sisters had actually thought ahead, and waited until she'd handed over her sword at the coat check and sat at a table before lecturing her.

Olivier sipped her ice water while waiting for her food to be served. At first, she didn't pay any attention to her sisters, but their actions quickly became strange enough to warrant her observation. It was almost as if they were talking in some kind of code made up entirely of eye brow movements, widening of the eyes, subtle lip movements, and shaking of the head.

She quickly lost interest in their game and stared out the window across the room, it was another gloomy day, but no rain, yet.

"Livi," Strong-ko piped up.

"Hm?" Olivier asked, turning her attention back to the blondes.

"Have you ever thought about love?" Strong-ko continued.

Olivier was baffled for a minute. Surely, they had been thinking this over for a while. "That's why you wanted me in the corner?" she asked, realizing she had once again fallen for a surprise attack set by her family. They knew she'd been itching to get away from her nagging mother, and that she wouldn't argue about sitting on the inside corner of the booth, because she hated having to get out of the seat every time the person next to her wanted to get up.

"Yes, and don't change the subject," Arm-e ordered.

"And the subject was?" Olivier asked, examining her nails.

"Love," Catherine exclaimed, clasping her hands together in front of her.

"Oh, love," Olivier commented.

"Yes, love," Strong-ko reiterated, taking Olivier's tone of indifference as wistfulness.

"Well," Olivier drew out the word, resting her chin on a curled fist.

"Oh, I knew you had someone you're devoted to," Strong-ko asserted.

"Care for despite their faults," Arm-e added.

"And can't stand to be away from," Catherine finished.

Olivier mulled over their list and smirked. "I do love," she took a deep breath, amused at the way all three of her sisters were leaning towards her with bated breath, and continued, "my sword."

Their defeated, exasperated sighs were music to her ears.

"I devote hours to training with it. I have grown attached to it, despite the floral design along the blade and hilt. Oh, and I hate to be without it," she elaborated. "As a matter of fact," she started, nudging Catherine to move, so she could get out of the corner. "I've been away from my love so long that I seem to have lost my appetite," she excused herself.

"That's not what we meant," Arm-e called as Olivier started to walk away.

**'-.-'-.-' **

A.N.-Originally this was going to be a bit different. Her sisters pestering her about love, and so on, but with the OlivierxSwordOTP comments I couldn't resist. Though, it did turn out rather short, 457 words. Thanks for reading.

Thank you for reviewing: Griselda Banks, Ehxhfdl14, YourFavouitePlushie, Olmos, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, Dailenna, Legendary Chimera, White Knight, Crystal Mage, Yun Min, Bizzy,InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	13. The Flower Lady

I don't own FMA

**Day 13 - Roses**

**'-.-'-.-' **

It was hard for her to get used to the fickle weather at Central, but she was glad the wind that had annoyed her had been good for at least one thing. The sky was now cloud free, and with some appeal to emotion (_But, I never get to sit outside on a warm day_) she was able to convince them to sit on the patio during lunch.

Of course, her real motivation for the location was that she didn't have to leave her sword with the coat check.

"How bad was that accident, dear?" Her mother asked, turning to her only son.

"A tunnel had caved in, but the train was able to make it out before it collapsed. The injuries were easily tended. It was the baggage car that took most of the damage," Alex explained.

"How are they taking care of the tunnel?" her father asked.

"Well, who better than the StrongArm Alchemist to fix it?" Alex beamed.

"Well done, m'boy," her father praised.

"I'll be going back and forth to help with the investigations. I wish I could be here to help with the wedding, but I must help my country any way I can," he said, attempting to stand and take one of his usual muscle-flexing poses, but a hand on his shoulder kept him secure in his seat.

"Not when we're having lunch," Olivier hissed.

Alex nodded and brought the lettuce-covered fork that had been in his hand the entire time in his mouth.

"Roses for the beautiful ladies?" a woman called from behind Olivier.

Everyone on her side of the table whirled around to be greeted by a woman draped in a shawl with a scarf tying back her hair, holding out a bouquet of yellow roses.

"You're back!" Olivier's father exclaimed, jumping from his seat to embrace the woman.

"Don't squish my flowers!" she shouted, putting the cart of flowers between herself and him.

"Yes, it was quite upsetting to find you weren't at the shop when we went in to order the flowers for the wedding," her mother added.

"Wedding?" the woman asked.

"Yes, Arm-e is engaged. You even missed the party," her mother explained.

"Well, best wishes, dear," the woman answered, handing her the bouquet.

"Thank you, Aunt Laurel," Arm-e said, accepting the roses.

"Don't mention it, dear. Now who is this I see here? Is it my little Milla?" Laurel asked, inspecting Olivier.

"I've been forced to come home for the wedding preparations," Olivier complained, resisting the urge to smile at her aunt.

"Well, there are only three more weddings to go after this. Plus your own," Laurel told her, grabbing another bouquet from her cart. "For the mother of the bride, you must be happy," she said, passing a colorful bouquet across the table.

"Now, I'll have to go, but you must visit tonight, Milla. One of my suppliers has moved, and I need help locating a new one," she said and left the group to their lunch.

"Wait, I'll come with you now," Olivier called, practically toppling over her chair in her haste to get up. Anything that would remove her from where the current conversation was bound to head, more weddings, wouldn't be refused.

She walked beside the wrinkled woman, easily keeping pace, which might have been harder if not for the wheelbarrow the woman pulled along behind her. Olivier would have offered to take the wheelbarrow, but she knew this woman would only take it as an insult, much like she herself would.

Their walk was silent, the few exceptions to the silence being the exchanging of flowers and money every now and then.

They soon veered off the bustling streets and made their way to a quiet street full of modest houses.

Olivier watched as Laurel left the half empty wheelbarrow on the walk way and waved her into the house. "Come, I've got something to show you," her aunt called from the opened door.

Olivier cautiously entered the room lit only by the trickle of sunlight filtering through the dark curtains while her aunt felt along the wall for the light switch.

Olivier wasn't surprised to see that the room was covered in far more roses than it had been the last time she saw it, rose print pillows piled on a couch covered in a similar pattern, wall paper depicting more flowers than Olivier knew existed, and someone had taken on the job of carving out flowers in the wooden beams that ran across the ceiling.

"Here, this way," her aunt directed.

Olivier didn't move, but stared at the multitude of flowers. Surely, her aunt had lost a few more screws over the years. After a few minutes of standing in the doorway she wasn't surprised to find herself being pulled up the stairs. After all, Laurel is an Armstrong. When Olivier started moving forward of her own accord the hand wrapped around her wrist disappeared.

"They didn't tell me, but I had a feeling my Milla was going to be in town," she explained, pushing open a door to the right.

Olivier's eyes widened at the room before her. There were no flowers of any sort in this room. It held only the essentials, just like it had when she was younger.

"Well, now we just need to go get your things from that stuffy mansion," Laurel commented, joining Olivier in her inspection of the room.

Olivier thanked her with a hug, a true Armstrong hug, and her aunt returned it full force.

They were quick to pull apart, and Olivier watched Laurel tighten the scarf tied around her head. "Now then, if you're staying here I expect you to help out at the shop. No slashing my flowers during your morning training, and after training we spend an hour in the garden or greenhouse. Let me see that blade of yours," she demanded holding out her hand.

Olivier handed it over without the hesitation or worry she usually did. "You're taking care of it well. Your uncle would approve. I'm surprised you haven't tried to remove the design," she commented after her inspection.

"Why ruin a perfectly good sword?" Olivier asked, returning the weapon to it's resting place.

"Well, you can leave it here while you help out in the shop for the rest of the day," Laurel told her.

"No."

"I don't need some little girl buying flowers for her mother to get her eye poked out," Laurel explained.

"I have more than a little self-control," Olivier argued.

"If any bit of that blade shows itself you're going right back to them."

They argued until they were out of the house, Laurel pulling along her wheelbarrow full of roses and Olivier matching her step for step, with her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-First apologies for the delay. The holiday rush at work took more out of me than I thought it would, I blame the past week on painkillers from a wisdom tooth removal making my work incoherent. When editing I discovered half of it was in present tense DX. It's probably going to take me a few days to get back into the swing of regular updates. Next couple chapters might turn a bit away from the comical side. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks to everyone for reading.

Thanks for reviewing: ehxhfdl14, Legendary Chimera, WhiteKnight, Griselda Banks, Dailenna, MoonStarDutchess, Bar-Ohki, Ruingaraf, TammerTime, Yun Min, YourFavouitePlushie, Olmos, Crystal Mage, Bizzy, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith


	14. Appropriate Timing

I don't own FMA

**Day 14 - Rescue**

**'-.-'-.-' **

Her sword was far stronger, sharper, and shinier than any knight with or without armor she would ever meet. Why she sat in her aunt's garden waiting for her rescue was beyond her.

She blew her hair out of her face as she pulled at the weeds with her gloved hands. She didn't mind getting dirty, but she wasn't used to the sweat. It was odd, working until the sweat ran down her face used to be something she enjoyed, but years of being in the frosty North had taken that away. Sweat was now a sign of anxiety and nerves, something she only encountered in the most strenuous of situations.

Maybe the thought of having to stay in the same with room the entirety of both the Armstrong and Walker clans during the night's party was getting to her. This night would be one she wouldn't be able to look back on without cringing. It'd be right up there with the bloodiest battles she'd ever fought, actually worse, because she wouldn't be able to kill those attacking her tonight.

She attempted to blow the stubborn strands of hair out of her face again, but they were plastered there by sweat. She let out a low growl. "I'll take that scarf now," she said, preparing for Laurel's witty comeback, but the only sounds she heard was the roots of the weed she was pulling at tearing out of the damp soil.

"Aunt Laurel?" she called, shoving the weeds into the bag she'd been given as she turned around on her knees.

After a quick inspection she found no one in the greenhouse or the rest of the backyard. She was about to walk around to the front of the house when she heard the back door open. "Milla," Laurel called, the steps creaking under her feet.

"Hmm?"

"Message from your boys, marked urgent," she explained, waving an envelope of military issue in her hands.

Olivier discarded her soiled gardening gloves and practically ran to meet her aunt. After receiving the envelope she had gotten herself under some degree of control and slowly broke the seal. The smile trying to make its way onto her face was suppressed with more force than usually needed as she read the message.

"I've got to return to Briggs for a week or two. One of my direct subordinates has been injured. I want to make sure his replacement knows what he's doing," she explained.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Laurel commented.

"It's really too bad, I was looking forward to the rest of the wedding preparations," Olivier pouted.

"You'll have to consider theater if you ever go into early retirement," Laurel remarked, walking past her, and getting back to her gardening.

"I'm going to pack, and then I'll be off," Olivier told her as she climbed the stairs.

"You should shower too, or are you going to use odor to keep the civilians away during the train ride?" Laurel called, a cackle leaving her lips before Olivier answered.

"I never thought of that, my attitude is usually enough," she answered, joining in the laughter.

After following her aunt's advice of a shower (despite popular belief she did take pride in her appearance0, and packing she reported to Central Head Quarters where her brother waited for her at the main entrance.

Part of her had already forgotten about the train incident, but she was reminded of it as soon as she saw him standing there with that goofy smile on his face.

"Are you ready to go, Livi?" he asked.

"It's General Armstrong when we're in uniform," she corrected.

He nodded and gave the usual salute, which she returned. "This way, General," he directed her towards a car waiting outside the entrance.

They slowed as they passed the once collapsed tunnel on the country road, and Olivier couldn't help but wonder why they chose her brother for the repairs if they knew his style. She rolled her eyes at the mural of her brother carved on the outside of the tunnel. Apparently, they didn't know his trademark, yet.

"Well, this is where I get off," Alex said as the driver pulled to a stop a few meters past the tunnel where a couple tents were set up and a few people in blue were milling about.

Olivier looked over at him when the car door didn't close. "Goodbye?" she offered hesitantly.

"Have a safe trip. Don't keep us waiting long, Livi," he said, closing the door before she could scold him for his lack of decorum. She watched him give a salute along with a lopsided smile and then a wave as the car pulled away.

She lifted her hand in acknowledgment, thankful to get away from him without fighting off a hug.

The remainder of the car ride was quiet and passed by quickly. The cadet attempted to carry her bags to the train, but she beat him in grabbing them. He only stammered for a moment as she walked away into the crowd.

This time she took the cabin reserved for military personnel. Once her luggage was stored up in the overhead compartment, she sat down and pulled the envelope out of her jacket pocket.

She scanned the message a few times over, but nothing stood out. She refolded the message and envelope as the train took it first jerky movements. After it was settled back in her pocket, she folded her arms, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes.

The trains movements lulled her off to that place between sleep and consciousness she knew so well, while she told herself she was lucky to have a crew who knew when she needed to be rescued .

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-I forgot to mention in last chapter that Milla is actually the name of a flower. It grows in Mexico between July and October. It's white and has 5 long petals that form a star. Thanks for reading!

Thank you for reviewing: White Knight, Bar-Ohki, Bizzy, Dailenna, MoonStarDutchess, ehxhfdl14, Legendary Chimera, Griselda Banks, Ruingaraf, Tammertime, Yun Min, Olmos, Crstal Mage, InuJoey, YourFavouitePlushie, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	15. The Month's Arrival

I don't own FMA

**Day 15 - March**

**'-.-'-.-' **

Olivier was glad she wasn't disturbed by any children roaming the cars during her little nap. Looking over the telegram one more time her eyes flashed to the date, February 28th. It was the same date as the one on her transfer papers. It had been over six years since she set foot in Briggs on that blustery March day. Some of her current crew had already been there then. After a few unfortunate losses during her first year, she was at the top in her second March. By then she had fully adjusted to the climate and forgot the season of spring even existed. All the trees in the mountains were evergreens, no flowers grew in that climate, and snow perpetually covered the mountaintops.

Time passed faster than most places without any change in the scenery to depict time's movement. Before she had known it her third March in the fortress passed and she had her nickname.

The Northern Wall of Briggs was more than happy to be returning to the place she called home. There she was always ready for a secret ambush, she didn't have to worry about anyone thinking about her wearing a dress, no one attempted to give her bone crushing hugs, and everything was done the way she wanted it.

She would need to let some steam out when she arrived. There were a few new recruits she hadn't gotten the chance to work with, they would do. If they were lucky Buccaneer and Miles would have already started them on the training regime. Olivier frowned at the thought.

Surely, her two best subordinates would have made sure to follow through with her training procedures for the new men, and by now all the fun would be gone out of it. She could see the evil glint in Buccaneer's eyes as he scrimmaged with them while Miles lectured them about hesitating in the field.

She put the telegram back in its place and folded her arms across her chest. Really, they could have called her back sooner. Everyone knew her favorite way to relieve stress was to show the new kids that the stories about her were true, and then treat them to some sake. They'd never drink like that again after working with a hangover the next day. She might not be able to take their first scrimmage from them, but no one else would steal the sake initiation from her. She really wanted to kick March off with a good fight, but some sake would have to do.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-This one turned out weird...I think. Anyways, next chapter she'll be back at Briggs! Thanks for reading.

Thank you for reviewing: Griselda Banks, Dailenna, Legendary Chimera,WhiteKnight, Bar-Ohki, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, ehxhfdl14, Ruingaraf, TammerTime, Olmos, Crystal Mage, YourFavouitePlushie, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	16. Disregarding the Doctor's Orders

I don't own FMA

**Day 16 - Hospital**

**'-.-'-.-' **

Olivier grinned at the snow she could make out through the frosted window. She was finally back at the place where she belonged. She easily made her way off the empty train and to the deserted platform.

It took her a minute to spot the soldier hiding under the awning through the flurries of snow, and when she did the corners of her mouth turned down ever so slightly.

He was neither the bulking or dark skinned figures she had expected, but an aged, spectacle-wearing man.

"General Armstrong, Sir," he greeted with a salute.

She returned the greeting and followed him to the car.

Once he pulled away from the station she put an end to the silence. "Where are Major Miles and Lieutenant Buccaneer?"

"Buccaneer is at the hospital and Miles is at the base, Sir," he answered, making a quick stop at the red octagon.

"Are you going to brief me, or will I have to wait until we get there?" she asked, her voice clipped.

"Lieutenant Buccaneer was injured on base the other day, I'm not aware of the circumstances, and he was admitted to the hospital on they day your received the telegram. The doctor won't release him until he signs the discharge papers, but he refuses to," the man explained.

"Discharge papers?" she asked, eyebrows raising with the volume of her voice.

Her escort let out a deep breath, and then began to explain, "He had to have surgery on his right arm."

Olivier clenched her jaw at the new information and straightened up. "He won't have to be discharged," she stated as they reached their destination.

The man didn't respond, but pulled the key from the ignition and got out of the car. He scrambled around to the other side of the automobile to open the door, but Olivier was already walking into the hospital.

"Lieutenant Buccaneer's room."

"You must be General Armstrong, Doctor Taylor would like to speak with you—"

"The doctor can speak with me in his room," she cut off the receptionist, and turned to face her escort as he cleared his throat.

"His room is this way, General Armstrong, Sir," the Sergeant said, leading the way.

She followed him without hesitation, leaving the shocked receptionist behind her desk.

A smirk spread across Olivier's face as she heard a deep voice calling her while she turned the corner.

She didn't slow or quicken her pace as a set of footsteps quickly approached from behind.

"Ms. Armstrong?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"General," she corrected, shaking him off.

"I'm Doctor Taylor, I'd like to speak with you concerning the patient."

"Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of him."

"I've already spoken to him."

"Then what seems to be the problem, Doctor?" she probed.

He winced at the sharpness of her voice, and explained, "He refuses to be discharged, when the corrective surgery failed we had to amputate, but he insists that he can still be part of the military."

"Have you ever thought about the options?" she hissed as her escort pulled open a door for her.

"Auto-mail surgery," she said when all the white-coated man did was stare.

"Hah, I knew she'd know what it was called," called Buccaneer's gruff voice.

Olivier noted that he looked a bit pale, and that his eyes were dilated, but when her eyes traveled down to his right shoulder, only a stump of cloth peeked out from the short sleeve of the hospital gown.

"There's nerve damage," Taylor argued, his frown growing.

"Well, cut it off above the nerve damage. We won't need the useless parts," she snapped.

"There aren't any auto-mail surgeons here," said Taylor, his voice weaker than when he'd first spoken to her.

"The military will send one. You're going to release him to me today. The infirmary at Briggs is where he belongs.

"But—"

"Doctor Taylor, my subordinate is stable, correct?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yes," he answered.

"In any immediate danger?"

"No."

"Good, then he'll leave today," she informed him.

"The medical facilities—"

"At Briggs are up to par, and always will be with the threat of blizzards," she interrupted.

"I'll go get the paperwork," the doctor said, finally defeated.

"You go get the car ready, Sergeant," Olivier ordered.

"Yes, Sir!" he said, saluting as he left the room.

"Stop smiling like that," Olivier snapped at Buccaneer.

"Yes, Sir," Buccaneer laughed as he gave an awkward salute with his left.

"Do you always have to cause trouble?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ears as she took a seat.

"Makes things more exciting," he replied, giving a half shrug.

"Explain," she demanded, crossing one leg over the other as she forced herself to look away from the bandages to his face.

"I don't know what it was, but someone set up something in your office. They tell me one of the peons was Drachman. He resisted arrest, and started going for his gun," Buccaneer briefed her.

"Dead?" she inquired.

He nodded.

"There's nothing I can do about him then," she shrugged, the murderous light fading from her eyes. "Do you have a uniform here?" she asked, tucking her hair back again.

"Closet, somewhere," he pointed.

She lowered the rails on the bed, and made her way to the small doors at the end of the room.

"I hate hospital gowns," Buccaneer grumbled as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed, and stood.

She put the clothes on the little table and retreated, pulling the curtain to divide the room as she went.

Once she heard the curtains rustling, she turned to face him. The white shirt he usually wore beneath his uniform shirt was hanging over his left shoulder, providing more contrast against the black coat than the white fur gave off, the black coat hung loosely off his right shoulder and framed the unbuttoned blue and gray jacket which revealed the toned smooth stomach that reminded her of a certain blond fond of removing his shirt.

"Had some trouble with the shirt and buttons," he laughed, rubbing the back of his ad. "And this thing needs fixed," he commented, pulling the long ponytail of black hair over his shoulder.

"Can't even button your own jacket," she muttered, closing the distance between them. "No commanding officer in their right mind would let one of their men walk around in a place like this with his jacket unbuttoned," she reasoned as she first shoved the silver buttons through slits in the blue material, and then black ones through the black wool.

Olivier's escort opened the door just as she took a step away from Buccaneer. He saluted and passed off a large envelope to her. "All finished with the paper work, and these are his files, Sir."

"Good, do you know how to plait hair, Sergeant?" she inquired.

"Yes, Sir," he answered after a moment of hesitation.

"Wonderful skill, Sergeant. The Lieutenant here can't do it for himself right now, give him a hand," she ordered, smirking at Buccaneer.

"Yes, Sir." The man promptly made his way to Buccaneer's back and started to untie the string holding it all together.

"It's fine like this," Buccaneer grumbled, reaching behind him to pull his hair back over his shoulder, but it was already loose.

"Go ahead, Sergeant," Olivier encouraged, her amusement a direct result of the dissatisfied frown on the lieutenant's face.

Once his braided hair was tied off the three of them left the room, and exited the hospital without any interruption.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-This chapter took a while to get right, especially after I made changes. The one reference before this chapter to Buccaneer having a metal arm has been removed, because I changed my plans a bit. Special thanks to Dailenna for helping me get through this chapter. More details on what happened in the next chapter. I'm so glad we got Livvy/Alex interaction in chapter 80 XD Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: WhiteLadyoftheRing, Legendary Chimera, Bar-Ohki, Bizzy, Dailenna, White Knight, Griselda Banks, Yun Min, Bar-Ohki, MoonStarDutchess, ehxhfdl14, Ruingaraf, TammerTime, YourFavouitePlushie, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	17. Cover the Stains

I don't own FMA

Day 17 - Red

**'-.-'-.-'**

After getting everything settled, all she wanted to do was finally have that glass of sake she'd thought about on the train, but no matter how many times she'd brought the red-tinted glass bottle to her lips she couldn't seem to part them and take in the wonderful liquid.

Now it was nearing three-hundred hours, and she was still in uniform, standing in front of her damaged office.

A shadow darkened the blood-spattered wall she was staring at, and her instincts kicked in.

"General?" Miles asked, standing a few inches out of harm's way.

Olivier sheathed her sword and returned to staring at the red-brown speckles.

"Why aren't you at home?" she asked.

Miles relaxed his shoulders when she didn't call him by rank. This was going to be a conversation between comrades, not superior and subordinate. "I've been staying in the barracks all week, one more night won't hurt."

"Your daughters might try to sneak into the fortress again if you stay here too long," she said, casting a glance in his direction as he moved to stand next to her.

Miles chuckled. "Not after the last time. They might've pouted all the way home, but you did a good job of frightening them. They still won't tell me what you said," he explained.

She smirked for a second at the memory, but as soon as her eyes found more stains on the wall her lips turned back down. "Is this his?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered, studying her profile as he spoke, but her facial expression didn't change.

"Get someone to clean and paint over it tomorrow," she ordered, and took her leave.

"He's still awake," she heard Miles called after her as she walked away, and she scowled at her aide's perceptiveness.

The infirmary was almost completely dark, save for one lamp burning in the farthest corner. She gravitated towards it like an insect.

Buccaneer was attempting to shuffle a deck of cards with one hand, but she could see a few on the floor from a previous attempt.

She picked up the cards and took the rest from his hands.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked, trying to hide his embarrassment with the question.

"It's not my blood decorating the walls," she replied, pulling a chair closer to his bed with her free hand.

He was silent while he watched her shuffle the deck of cards.

"What're you playing?" she asked as she set the cards down on the table that hung over the bed.

"Nothing," he grumbled, staring at the back side of the cards.

"Play, or go to sleep," she ordered, tugging some of the long hairs that made up his mustache.

He awkwardly placed seven cards in a row, the red backs facing upwards.

"I'll help," she offered, making to grab the deck of cards again, but Buccaneer trapped her considerably smaller hand with his before she was able to pick the cards off the table.

She didn't attempt to pull free, or use her other hand to retract his from atop hers, but looked over to him with a raised eyebrow.

"It's called solitaire for a reason," he explained.

"It's rude to play a game your guests can't join in on. If you're going to do that I'll take the cards away when you fall asleep," she retorted, challenging him with her glare.

"I think I need more morphine," he complained, removing his hand from hers.

Olivier chuckled as she finished stacking the piles of cards. "I'll stay until the doctor comes back," she said.

"You're supposed to flip the top ones over," he pointed out, gesturing to the red cards.

"You've got to do some of the work on your own," she explained, a smirk finding its way on her face.

* * *

"General."

Olivier's neck cracked as her head shot up from it's resting place, her eyes were wide, and her mind in a panic, because her sword wasn't at her side.

Miles bit back a laugh at the expression, and red mark, on his commanding officer's face, and waited for her to regain her senses.

"What time is it, Major?" she asked, looking from the cards scattered across the table she'd used as a pillow to her aide.

"Six-hundred-forty-five hours, Sir," he answered.

"Why aren't you asleep?" she asked, as her she found her sword lying flat across her lap.

"Early shift, Sir," he explained.

"Is someone working on that wall?" she asked, standing from the chair as she slipped the leather strap that kept her sword in place over her head.

"As we speak, Sir" he answered.

"Good, you're dismissed, Major," she said, plucking her coat off the back of the chair.

"Yes, Sir," he replied, and gave a salute as he left.

It was times like these he was glad for the dark lenses covering his eyes, because he wouldn't have been able to contain the amusement in them as well as he could with the rest of his face.

Olivier quickly stacked the mess of cards, and left the infirmary before someone else found her there.

She passed the wall where a group of men were scrubbing with all their might to free the wall of the stains and made it to her room without incident.

The sake was still waiting for her, and as she put the rim of the bottle to her lips she was able to let the liquor slide down her throat.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.- Yay, another chapter! Buccaneer seems a bit mood swing-y, but he's not used to being useless, like Roy in the rain, and his pain killers are wearing off! Thanks for reading! In case I haven't mentioned it, this takes place at least a couple years before she meets Ed.

Thanks for reviewing: Griselda Banks, White Knight, Ruingaraf, Bar-Ohki, Dailenna, WhiteLadyoftheRng, Legendary Chimera, Bizzy, YunMin, MoonStarDutchess, ehxhfdl14, TammerTime, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, YourFavouitePlushie, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith


	18. The New Arrival

I don't own FMA.

**Day 18 - Temperature**

**'-.-'-.-' **

Olivier stared at the clock, daring it to keep on ticking, but like most things mechanical it didn't heed her glare and stop, but the hands kept turning, mocking her defeat with the regular tick, tick, tick, counting off each second of lost sleep.

Giving an exasperated sigh, she and rolled over in attempt to block out the annoying sound, but the ticking echoed in her ears getting progressively louder until she finally rolled back over to look at the time.

Olivier grumbled to herself about the lost hour of sleep as she pulled back the heavy blankets and stepped into the slippers beside her bed.

Her change from wool pajamas to the blue uniform pants and black turtleneck was quick enough that the chill of the air couldn't seep into her bones.

Not bothering with the standard shirt of blue she tugged on the coat that was hung on the back of her door and left the clock to track the time on its own.

She walked past her repaired office and freshly painted walls without stopping to stare at it like the morning before, but a part of her didn't want to go back into that office that was tainted with her comrade's blood, but making it into a supply closet would show a weak spot. A woman, a General, of such a fortress could not let weaknesses be exposed, or for that matter, exist.

Olivier wasn't surprised to find all but the dimmest of lights in the infirmary out, after all she'd ordered him to get enough rest. She considered turning back, but remembered the infernal ticking that haunted her room, and continued to his bed.

A glean of sweat sparkled off Buccaneer's crinkled forehead. The blonde was taken aback for a moment, this man had only ever perspired once that she could remember, and rightly so, since they had been sparring. Before she knew what she was doing, the back of her hand was pressed against his sticky, warm forehead. His reaction turned out to be quicker than hers.

She didn't fight the crushing hold he had on her hand, but let her hand go limp, so he knew she wasn't a foe. After his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, his eyes softened along with the grip he had on her hand.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, slowly pulling his hand away from hers.

"It better not happen again, even if you're on your deathbed," she growled.

Buccaneer let out a rough laugh. "I wouldn't expect any different," he replied.

"You have a fever," she mentioned, changing the subject.

"Doctor gave me something for that," he explained.

"Rest," she ordered, and left him to comply.

On her way out of the infirmary the doctor emerged from the office at the entrance. "General Armstrong?" she called.

Olivier turned to face her. "Yes, Wendle?"

"The auto-mail mechanic, doctor, arrives today, correct?" she asked, hands shoved into the pockets of her white coat.

"Correct, ten hundred hours," she answered.

"Thank you. I'll make sure everything is prepared, Sir," the woman assured her.

"Take care to watch that temperature, Wendle," Olivier ordered, and took her leave.

Back in her room the clock had finally stopped its fussing, and Olivier was able to get some sleep.

* * *

Six hours later, Olivier was awake, and back in her regular routine.

At ten hundred twenty-seven hours, she was interrupted from her review of the investigation in her fully repaired, repainted office by a knock on the door.

The firm, single rap belonged to Miles, and she gave him permission to enter. She wasn't fazed by the red-headed man in civilian clothing whom followed behind Miles.

"Welcome to Briggs, Dr. Swirbul. Major Miles will show you around and to your living quarters. Your reports and supply lists are to be turned in to me for review. You're dismissed," she explained and got back to reading the report on the top of her pile of documents. She missed the frown on the redhead's face as he turned to leave the room, but through the office door, she was able to hear Miles chuckling at the newest resident of the cold fortress.

* * *

By twenty-one hundred hours, she found herself passing by the infirmary on her way, the long route, back from getting a cup of coffee. She was nearly to the end of the hallway when Swirbul called to her, "General Armstrong."

She turned to find his head poking out of the lit doorway. "Doctor?" she asked, approaching him.

"Just a minute," he said, holding up his index finger to emphasize, and ran back into the infirmary.

Olivier stopped in her tracks and took a long sip of her black coffee. Once the mug was away from her mouth, she turned back around to walk away.

"General!" Swirbul called from behind her.

She smirked at the quick pace his footsteps indicated. "I'm too busy to wait, you have to be on your feet here," she said, still marching in her usual brisk pace.

"The reports," he said, matching his pace with hers. "I thought I'd give them to you since you were passing by," he explained as he offered her a manila envelope.

She accepted the envelope, but gave no response.

"Dr. Wendle told me you were concerned about Captain Buccaneer's fever. It's reduced from what she recorded early this morning, but still high enough to stop me from performing surgery," he commented.

"You're dismissed," Olivier told him, waving him off with the envelope in her hand.

She could feel the man's eyes on her as she walked away. The remainder of the way to her room she only ran into a few men on duty patrolling the halls and left them with salutes.

Upon closing her bedroom door behind her she set down her coffee and reports on her desk, so she could take off her boots. Once her boots were in the corner, she sat down at her desk and pulled the few sheets of parchment out of the envelope.

The supply list was at the top of the pile, and she wanted to put it aside, but controlled herself and read through the metals and medical equipment the doctor would need. The second page was the one she chastised herself about being anxious to read. Surely, she shouldn't be fretting so over her comrade's health. After finding out that Buccaneer had a clean bill of health, aside from the three degree rise in temperature and missing arm, she drained her mug of coffee and got ready for bed. Despite the coffee, sleep found her much more easily than it had since she'd arrived back at Briggs.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N. - I commend you if you're not wondering where I pulled the names from for the doctors. Well, Swirbul and Schewndle are two men that had a hand in helping Leroy Grummen open his helicopter/plane company. So, I call Swirbul a doctor, because I think auto-mail mechanics are more than just mechanics. Swirbul and Wendle are both in the manga, but they have yet to be named, once the names are given I will come back and change them. Thanks for reading!

Thanks for the reviews: White Knight, ehxhfdl14, Dailenna, Legendary Chimera, Bar-Ohki, Griselda Banks, YourFavouitePlushie, Ruingaaf, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Bizzy, MoonStarDutchess, TammerTime, Yun Min, Olmost, Crystal Mage, InuJoey,The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	19. Melting

I don't own FMA

**Day 19 - Touch**

**'-.-'-.-' **

Tired of reviewing the documents left in her absence, Olivier pushed away from her desk and left the small stack to remain unattended while she went for a walk about the fortress.

She was looking for the team on icicle duty when she saw Buccaneer pass the hall she was walking.

"Lieutenant," she called, not quite sure if it was him or another officer with the same build.

When he peeked back down the hallway she was sure it was him, and she continued in his direction.

He gave her a left-handed salute, one not quite as awkward as before, and met her halfway.

"Why aren't you in the infirmary?" she inquired as they stopped a few paces from each other.

"I got tired of lying around all day," he answered, giving a half shrug.

"Do you still have a fever?" she asked, stretching to check his temperature.

"No, they tell me I'm about average. Do you have a fever?" he asked, covering her forehead with his large hand.

"Why would I have a fever?" she inquired as she swatted his hand away.

"Permission to speak freely?" he requested.

"You already are, continue," she replied, wondering why he was using formalities.

He hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It would seem," he began, "that some ice has melted."

"I'll show you melted," Olivier growled, eyes narrowed as she drew her sword.

"I'm an unarmed man," he reminded her, raising his left hand in defeat.

"It looks like you've still got one," she snapped, lowering her sword.

Buccaneer looked to his left arm and chuckled. "I better go back before those two kill each other."

"They're not getting along?" she asked.

"Both of them are used to being in command," he explained.

"He's in for a surprise if he thinks she'll back down," Olivier commented. "I want to ask him a few questions," she thought aloud, unconsciously making an excuse to walk to with him to the infirmary, as she strode past him.

Buccaneer shook his head in amusement and followed her lead, his longer pace quickly catching up with hers.

Aside from when she found one of the warrant officers on the icicle team, the two were silent on their way to the infirmary, and when they got there she went to the office at the left, and he to his bed on the right.

"When will you perform the surgery, Swirbul?" Olivier inquired as she entered the office.

The red-head jumped and let loose a string of curses. Olivier took a seat while he composed himself, and she had to cough to cover up her laughter when he finally turned around to face her.

He was attempting to pat dry the stains covering his coat from shoulders to knees.

"You surprised me," he confessed.

"I could tell," she drawled, eyes following a drop of dark liquid as it fell from his goatee and splattered onto the stained coat.

He ignored her comment and picked out a stack of papers from his desk. "Here's the report. We decided to go ahead with the surgery tomorrow," he answered her question.

"Let me know before the operation starts," she ordered, and left the room with his report in hand.

Buccaneer was already in his bed with Wendle was fussing over him. She wasn't sure if he'd see, but she gave a wave over her shoulder as she left.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.- This chapter sure is shorter than the last couple ones. Thanks for reading.

Thanks for reviewing: Legendary Chimera, Chaotic Lullaby, Griselda Banks, Dailenna, Bar-Ohki, White Knight, ehxhfdl14, YourFavouitePlushie, Ruingaraf, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, TammerTime, Olmos, Crystal Mage, Inu Joey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	20. Nausea

I don't own FMA

**Day 20 - First Time**

If she'd have slaughtered everyone who'd ever told her _'There's a first for everything'_ she would have been able to fill all the storerooms of her icy fortress.

Of course there was a first time for everything—that was only logical.

She hadn't ever expected to face this particular feeling, not after being through battles bloodier than freshly chopped meat, but as she watched the doctor work on removing the useless bits of her sedated Lieutenant's stump of an arm, she felt her stomach churning, and had to look away to keep the bile burning her throat at bay as it mounted it's surprise attack.

She clutched at the hilt of her sword as she marched away from the observation window. There was work to be done, and she trusted both Wendle and Swirbul to do their jobs properly.

Olivier didn't notice her footsteps were heavier than usual, nor that the soldiers who heard her coming jumped out of her way far earlier than usual, and she definitely didn't notice the smirk Miles let show for a spilt second as she walked towards her office.

He wanted to ask about his comrade's surgery, but from the way she grasped the handle of her sword he knew to keep silent. He saluted as she approached him, and he held out a stack of paperwork, which she collected before she closed herself in her office.

A little over an hour later, like clockwork, she dropped the finished work on his desk and left without a word on her usual afternoon inspection of the fort.

Her inspection went smoother than normal, rooms were spotless, paperwork in progress, pipes free of ice, and training in full swing. She avoided the infirmary, where she knew Swirbul and Wendle would be cleaning up from the surgery and making sure Buccaneer got his rest.

Miles glanced up as Olivier walked past him, she hadn't given away her approach as she had earlier, and he quickly saluted as she glanced at him. "Dr. Swirbul has been waiting for you, Sir," he announced.

She didn't show her surprise, but he knew well enough that she hadn't been expecting the surgeon to approach her anytime soon.

Olivier didn't get the chance to catch the doctor off guard, with the office door being closed he had turned around at the sound of it opening.

"General," he greeted.

"Have a seat, Doctor," she replied as she walked around to take a seat behind her desk.

"Well?" she asked when he didn't explain his presence right away.

He straightened in his chair and spoke, "The surgery was a success."

As soon as he finished his sentence she let out the breath she'd been holding in a silent sigh.

"The Lieutenant will probably be asleep for the next few hours, but he'll be awake before the night falls, would you like me to call you when he wakes?" he asked.

"Just keep me updated," Olivier answered as she leaned back in her chair.

Swirbul stared at her, a bit dumbfounded at her tone of indifference. "Well, I'll just be going then," he excused himself, and left her alone in the office.

**A.N.-** Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: WhiteLadyoftheRing. Ruingaraf, WhiteKnight, Bar-Ohki, TammerTime, Dailenna, Griselda Banks, Legendary Chimera, Chaotic Lullaby, Ehxhfdl14, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	21. XRay Vision

I don't own FMA.

**Day 21 - Fake**

Olivier froze mid-strike as Miles caught her attention with the clearing of his throat.

"It's time for the next group, Sir," he informed her.

As she sheathed the paring sword, she eyed the three men swordsmen hunched over their own swords, the one she had just been practicing against panted heavier than the other two.

"Work on your footing. Once you've got that mastered, it all comes together," she addressed all three of them.

Their backs went ramrod straight as they answered '_Sir, yes, Sir'_ in unison and saluted.

Olivier returned the salute and left in the direction Miles had come from. He stood inches from the wall next to the door of the female locker room. Olivier grumbled as she closed the door behind her. The room was really a waste of valuable space with the sparse female population in the fort. A look up at the clock on the wall tore a growl from her throat, she'd gone fifteen minutes past the allotted training time without noticing the difference.

When she swung open the door she saw Wendle walking away, and she looked over at Miles with a raised brow.

"Buccaneer is awake, and his rehabilitation starts tomorrow," Miles passed on the doctor's words.

"Is that so?" Olivier asked feigning disinterest as she marched past the dark skinned soldier.

Miles followed behind her, only bothering to straighten out his knowing smirk when they walked down occupied corridors.

Just before she closed the door to her office he called her, "Sir?"

"Major?" she inquired.

"I'm going to go to the cafeteria for some coffee, anything for you, Sir?"

"The usual," she answered, and let the door close.

When she was through with her sixth review she shoved the paperwork aside and ventured out of her office. Upon seeing Miles hadn't returned, she told Henschel she was going on her usual rounds, and marched off.

She turned left the first hall, a direction that would take her to the infirmary sooner than her walk around the fort usually did. When she walked into that glaringly white room her unusually tense shoulders relaxed.

From the end of the ward she could see Buccaneer playing a game of cards, metal glistening from his collarbone to shoulder and wrapping around to his back, attached to his skin like a parasite.

Buccaneer looked over as soon as her boots clicked on the floor and saluted. "Miles left something for you, Sir," he reported, motioning to a paper cup on the bedside table.

A grin slipped onto her face and she took her seat as he shuffled the cards with one hand.

"You've been practicing," she observed.

"Not bad, huh?" he asked, using his thumb to deal a card in her direction, one to himself, set the deck down, and then repeated the process, this time with the cards face up.

Olivier took a sip from her coffee while she peeked at the facedown card.

Writing on the cup caught her eye just as she was about to call blackjack . _You don't have to fake it_ was scrawled in Miles' small slanted script. She wasn't quite sure if the sound that escaped her throat was a gasp or laugh, but she should have known well enough that Miles would be able to see through any walls she put up.

Buccaneer looked at her with wide eyes.

"Just a hiccup," she reassured him.

"Hit?" he asked, holding out another card.

"Blackjack," she announced as she flipped over the hidden card.

He pulled her cards towards him and shoved them in a pile to the side along with his, and set to deal out the next round.

"How's your shoulder?" she asked while looking at her next hand.

"Sore, and stiff," he answered, giving an expression that fell somewhere between a grin and grimace.

**A.N. - Thanks for reading! **

Thanks for reviewing: Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, GriseldaBanks, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, WhiteLadyoftheRing. Ruingaraf, TammerTime, Chaotic Lullaby, Ehxhfdl14, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith.


	22. Her Guard

I don't own FMA

**Day 22 - Redemption**

**'-.-'-.-'**

On her desk sat a letter from Central.

Her first thought while she'd read it had been on how useful flame alchemy would have been at the moment, but as soon as she'd finished the letter the uncouth thinking had left her, and an ingenious conclusion had formed in her mind.

"I've got business at the infirmary," she announced as she walked past Miles' desk.

* * *

Behind the dark lenses of his glass, Miles blinked a few times in disbelief, and if not for the glasses he would have rubbed at his eyes, too. Her willingness to go to the infirmary so early in the day was not something he'd expected, unless something horrible had happened, and then it would be just like her to call it "business." Miles quickly finished his review of the document before him, and excused himself from the office.

By the time he reached the infirmary, Olivier was already seated next to Buccaneer's bed with her back to Miles. The fact that neither of them had noticed him made him stop from interrupting their conversation.

* * *

Olivier watched the movements of Buccaneer's metallic arm while he sat up in the infirmary bed.

The skin around the connection port was red with irritation, and grew taut with every movement of the attached armor.

She kept up her study of him while his eyes moved over the letter she'd received from Central.

"Who do you think they'll choose?" he asked as he folded the paper back into thirds.

"No one."

"No one?" he repeated as his eyes met hers.

Olivier nodded and took the document from his hand. "This will be your way of redeeming yourself for letting that happen to you," she explained, gesturing to his new, shiny arm.

"When do we leave?" he asked, the corners of his mouth upturned, and eyes brighter than they'd been seconds before.

"In a week. We'll spar every morning until then," she informed him.

"Yes, Sir!" he replied.

* * *

Miles quickly ducked out of the infirmary as the two exchanged salutes, and hurried back to his desk.

Just as he took up his work where he'd left off, Olivier made her way into the office and dropped the letter from Central on his desk.

"Write back to Central to let them know I'll be taking my own personal guard, and then rearrange my sparring schedule for the week," she ordered.

Miles nodded in compliance, and watched her march to her own office. The look she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door warned him not to eavesdrop on her again.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.-Thanks for reading, and for sticking with the story!

Thanks for reviewing: GriseldsBanks, Tammertime, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	23. Merciless

**Day 22: Shower**

**'-.-'-.-'**

There was still grace in his movements as he stared at her, standing, waiting for the opportunity to attack. He hadn't been forced to spar with her in the mornings for years. Morning practices were strictly used to whip new recruits into shape, and everyone that had gathered around the edges of the gym knew it. The audience wasn't something she'd expected.

Olivier smirked as he lunged towards her, and stepped aside just before he struck. If not for the officers watching, there would have been a satisfied smile on her face, for he didn't stumble and fall like the first time, this time he quickly changed direction, and their wooden practice swords met for the first time that morning.

Using his height, and longer reach, he showered her with blows from his sword, but each one was matched, dull thuds resonated through the stone room, and those watching grew wide-eyed.

Seeing their looks of astonishment, Olivier realized she was going easy on Buccaneer, and narrowed her eyes. She was showing him mercy…mercy. Mercy was only a word she knew when –less was put on the end of it. Many a times, she'd heard officers giving new recruits the run down use the word merciless to describe both the weather of the mountains and her own personality.

When their swords struck again, a loud crack filled her ears, and his momentum, left uninterrupted, led him stumbling past her. She whirled around to face him, only to find him looking at his own practice sword, if it could be called that anymore, in shock. The only part left of the sword was a bit of wood sticking out of the hilt.

"I had higher expectations," she grumbled to him.

Buccaneer frowned, still looking at the broken practice sword, as if it had simply fallen apart.

Olivier was glad for the combination of cool air and physical activity, which she could use to blame her flushed cheeks on, because she certainly didn't want anyone to find out color was creeping into her cheeks from anger. "You'll have to do better than this, Lt," she announced.

Buccaneer looked at her, and nodded.

"We'll practice again tonight," she ordered, and turned to walk away before he responded.

The shower in the locker room was already turned on, probably Miles' doing. As she listened to the running water, she realized exactly how she felt about the sparring match. It was like walking into a cold shower, when she expected it to be hot. That was why she'd gone easy on him. She wasn't quite sure how to respond at first. Chalking it up to normal human behavior, she put the incident in the back of her mind, and headed towards the steamy shower.

**'-.-'-.-'**

**A.N.:** Thanks for reading! Next chapter will have some humor.

Thanks for reviewing: Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Dailenna, Legendary Chimera, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	24. Black Mail

I don't own FMA, but it's creators don't own Führer Sparkles XD

**Day 24 - Picture**

**'-.-'-.-'  
**

By the time she got to the gym she was in the mood for hand to hand combat.

The morning had seemed to start of like an average day, but when she'd gotten to her office three envelopes with her mother's flowery script sat atop her desk.

Knowing they were demands for her immediate return, she deposited them in the trashcan beside her desk, but when she returned from acquisitioning a cup of coffee from the cafeteria the trashcan had been emptied.

It wasn't unusual, so she paid it no heed, but the early morning laughter in the corridor outside her office was unusual.

It wasn't until the laughter didn't subside that she poked her head out of her office to investigate. "Would anyone like to let me in on the joke?" she demanded more than asked.

Four faces went blank, all traces of laughter drained from them, replaced with lines of fear.

"Just a joke Robertson told us," Ayers offered.

"The joke?"

"Uh, well, erm, it's best if Robertson tells it. I'm horrible with timing and such," Ayers rambled, looking to the others for help.

"Yeah, we'll go get him for you" Bach offered, only to have the others nod in agreement.

Olivier nodded, gave them permission to leave, and watched them scramble away with with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

She was about to withdraw back into her office when Miles stepped into view, and eyebrow perked in amusement as he looked over his shoulder in the direction the frightened soldiers had gone.

"What was tha—" he abruptly swallowed his question as he looked in her direction, mouth working silently as his eyebrow dropped back into place.

After a moment, just before her patience ran away, he cleared his throat. "General, I would suggest looking at your door."

Taking his suggestion, she turned her head to the side, and very nearly lost control at the sight of the picture taped on the door.

"What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?" she inquired through clenched teeth as she took the offending portrait off the door.

As she rolled it up, she caught her mother's fancy scrawl on the back _Olivier & F__ührer Sparkles – Age 8._

"I don't know, it wasn't there when I left to get my coffee," he answered.

With the word coffee and bit of writing she could still see on the back of the photo, everything clicked into place…her mother must have put it in one of those letters she'd thrown out. "Lieutenant, who is on trash duty for this hall today?" she inquired.

"Sergeant Robertson, would you like to speak to him?"

"Very much so, but the four you saw scampering away should already be bringing him here. Send him in when he gets here," she ordered, and left Miles standing there, perplexed as to what the sergeant on trash duty had to do with the picture of young, frilly-dress-wearing Olivier brandishing her sword in one hand while clutching a teddy bear close in the other with a huge grin on her face.

Sitting in her office, rage boiling inside her, she vowed that if she discovered this was her mother's doing she wouldn't wear the dress to her sister's wedding.

She was looking through the budget report when the door opened, and Roberson entered the office.

"Have a seat, Sergeant," she offered, returning his stiff salute with her relaxed one.

The dark-haired man promptly took her up on her offer, eyes darting nervously about the room.

"Being that you are a Briggs soldier, I am sure that from the décor change outside you already know why you're here. I believe an explanation on your part is in order."

The man tried to gulp down his fears, but his unsteady voice betrayed him. "It…it was an order, Sir."

She waved her hand, silently demanding elaboration.

"The morning you arrived, I got an express telegram from a superior officer in Central. The telegram informed me that I was to receive a piece of mail from the sender, which I did the next day, and that I was to follow the directions contained in that piece of mail in the case that a certain scenario occurred."

"Do you actually need me to order you to give the full details," she growled, making a mental not to assign him to icicle duty for the remainder of the year.

He couldn't see her thumb stroking the hilt of her sword where it rested at her hip, but being a Briggs soldier he could sense a degree of murderous intent aimed at him. "It was your brother…I don't know how he knew I'd be on trash duty this week, but he did, and if you'd thrown out letters from home everyday, I was supposed to put that picture up," he confessed.

Olivier's hand went around the hilt of the sword...Alex was going to pay dearly. "From now on, you are to only follow orders from officers stationed at Briggs. You have permission to leave."

The words had hardly left her lips when he darted up out of the chair, giving an enthusiastic, "Sir, yes, Sir," as he darted for the door.

Olivier sighed as she opened the gym doors, she'd been able to tell that word of the photograph had spread though the fort faster than a blizzard disoriented unseasoned soldiers from the way officers of every rank turned tail at the sight of her.

The gym was empty, save for the two of them—surely hand to hand combat would have drawn more of a crowd than the previous day, but the events of the morning kept everyone away.

While she stretched in preparation, she watched Buccaneer work the punching bag with both fists out of the corner of her eye.

"You better not go easy on me because of that metal arm," she demanded as they faced each other.

"It never crossed my mind," he replied.

Olivier dropped to the ground, and proceeded to knock his feet out from under him.

* * *

She retired to her room early that night, a hot bath long overdue to soak her aching body. As she sat in the steamy water examining the bruises left from blows he'd landed with his metal hand she wondered how much damage he could do with a modified arm…there were countless possibilities she'd have to discuss with Swirbul.

**'-.-'-.-'**

**A.N.** - Holy smokes, this wound up being much longer than I intended 3 1/4 pages, 1,000 plus words. You might have read of Führer Sparkles before in Dailennas The Life of Olivier Milla Armstrong. I really can't recall exactly how we came up with idea, nor who deserves the credit...combined effort? Help me out here Dai. Führer Sparkles is Olivier's teddy...if you're for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	25. Joint Training

I don't own FMA

**Day 25 - Backyard**

**'-.-'-.-'  
**

The previous day's events still caused Olivier to scowl at subordinates who avoided her in the corridors. By the time she reached her office, she was ready to give the next officer who turned tail an outdoors assignment—indefinitely.

She spent the beginning of her day in the office, looking over reports and making ones of her own to send to Central.

In the middle of straightening the now finished pile of documents, a knock sounded on her door.

"Permission to enter," she called, folding her hands on her desk.

"Live communication from Eastern being patched through—General Grumman," Henshel announced.

"Put him through," she agreed, waving him out of her office.

Her hand hovered over the black receiver as she waited for it to ring—she rarely got information straight from Eastern, usually it was relayed through memos and reports from Central Top Brass.

The phone gave a shrill ring—too early to answer—a second ring—not too eager, yet not so long as too make it seem like she was taking her time to answer—and she picked up the receiver.

"Good day, General Grumman," she greeted.

"General Armstrong at last, I presume," he replied.

"That seems to be the general consensus as to my identity."

"A lovely voice, and charming, too," Grumman chortled.

"Well, if that's all you called about, I've got a border to protect," she told him, finger lingering over the push-button that would disconnect the call.

"Actually, I was elected to inform you of the impending joint training exercise to take place at your base," he explained.

"Elected?" she inquired, brow raised in interest.

"Yes, it seems none of the other generals were available to make contact with you, and they seemed quite glad for that coincidence seeing as how your reputation precedes you. In fact, I gather most of them are quite frightened of you," he told her.

"When is this exercise?" she asked, grinning at the information Grumman had just relayed to her.

"The troops will arrive on the twenty-fourth, and return on the tenth. Two and a half weeks of training," Grumman summed up.

Olivier sighed, a mixed sigh of relief and regret, on that first day she would be another year older. There was nothing better than having a set of soldiers to break in to Briggs rules & weather on her birthday, but she wouldn't be there, not until the last few days if she was able to escape her family right after the wedding. "I'm sure my men will give them the proper training," she reassured him.

"You won't be there to oversee it?"

"I'll only be there for the final days. Regrettably, I have something to attend to until at least the ninth."

"If you won't be there, and I won't be there, I suppose Mustang will have to go—he may not be scary, but his alchemy gets people moving—"

"Maybe I'll make it back sooner than I've planned," she considered aloud, interrupting Grumman's rambling.

"Well, that's it then. I look forward to hearing what everyone brings back from their time at Briggs," Grumman said, and promptly hung up after she ensured him that he'd have quite a bit to hear about.

She stared at the phone, wanting to stab the thing that had helped pass on the information about Mustang invading her backyard while she was gone, yet she wouldn't get any satisfaction out of it, and she'd have to calculate a new phone into the budgets reports she'd finished yesterday, instead she decided to find a way to return to Briggs earlier than her parents anticipated.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.: More of an inbetween chapter than anything. Olivier has heard the old addage "Don't kill the messenger" but why not the means of communication? Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Falling Knight, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	26. The Young Yeti

I don't own FMA

**Day 26: Best Friend**

**'-.-'-.-'**

It was late, or early depending on one's perspective on the matter, and sleep was nothing short of elusive with thoughts of Mustang roaming the fort unattended trapezing about her mind.

In short order, she was in civilian clothes and heading for the carport to be driven into town.

The officers on duty didn't ask questions, just did as she ordered like the good soldiers she knew they were.

"Go inspect the MP office," she ordered, pretending not to see the way he looked at the dingy pub she'd directed him to stop at.

She watched the rear lights disappear around a corner before entering The Young Yeti. Raucous laughter greeted her as she swung open the creaky door. Bells chimed, somehow audible over the noise of the room, and a group of men throwing darts took note of her entrance. A deep breath of the rowdy atmosphere raised her mood as she sauntered to an empty bar stool.

The barkeep gave her a wry smile. "Haven't seen you here in a while, General, the usual?" she asked, already sliding a shot of vodka to her, while filling a mug in her other hand with the house beer.

Olivier threw her had back and downed the tasteless liquid in response. She grinned as her throat heated—a welcome sensation against the cold that managed to sneak through her layers of wool.

"Tough day?" a familiar voice asked.

Blonde hair flew over her shoulder as she whipped around to find Buccaneer seating himself on the stool to her right.

"Shouldn't you be resting," she snapped, accepting the beer the barkeep replaced the empty shot glass with.

"I thought we were testing my limits," he replied, ignoring the icy glare she was giving him.

"This isn't the battlefield," she argued.

His rebuttal sounded in the form of a chuckle, and he requested a glass of sake.

"He's recently out of surgery, no alcohol for him," Olivier told her.

"It's not for me, Ami," he explained to the barkeep, earning a suspicious look from Olivier.

"I was under the impression we were to save the hazing rites of new recruits for you," he elaborated with a mischievous smirk.

"You know me too well," she all but cackled, turning to scan the crowd for the unfortunate soul.

Having acquisitioned the means to start the hazing ritual, Buccaneer maneuvered Olivier through the maze of filled tables to a corner near a pool table where a frightened looking redhead sat by himself.

"You can pretend he's Mustang," Buccaneer suggested

Olivier's eyes widened for a moment at the fact that he knew the real reason for her visit to the bar, but she covered her surprise with a laugh. "I'm not that cruel," she argued.

Buccaneer didn't bother with a reply, but watched with amusement as the officer recognized his general and jumped off the stool to full attention, hand poised in a salute.

"No need for formalities when I'm in civilian clothes," she said, waving Buccaneer forward. "Let's have a few drinks, get to know each other," she suggested, taking a seat opposite the man.

"We'll be best friends by the end of the night," Buccaneer added as he placed the drink in front of the now relaxed soldier.

"Best friends," Olivier echoed, putting one what she knew was her sweetest smile.

**'-.-'-.-'**

A.N.- I figured If I'm putting Mustang in here, I might as well give Olivier her hazing rites she was so excited about a few chapters back XD Thanks for reading! Sake...Japanese Sake is a rice wine, with alcohol content between 17-20 percent, which usually is watered down to 15 percent when bottled. 5/28 - Edited a few mistakes, thanks for the heads up Dai!

Thanks for reviewing: Dailenna, Falling Knight, Legendary Chimera, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	27. Weapon Geeks

I don't own FMA

-:-:-:-

She was simply fascinated that the thick metal fingers were able to handle the small fork so well.

Miles coughed at her side, and she looked away from Buccaneer's new arm, sure that she had been caught staring, but she lifted a piece of the gravy covered elk meat to her mouth as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"When do you leave again, General?" Miles asked between mouthfuls.

"In four days."

"That soon?" Buccaneer breathed.

She nodded. "What's that?" she asked, using her fork to point at the magazine he was flipping through.

"Swirbul gave it to me, said I might want to think of some extras once I got used to it," Buccaneer explained, sliding the automail magazine over to his superior.

Olivier's eyes grew wider with each page she turned. She'd known about automail, but she hadn't heard much of it being weaponized. These designs were genius, diamond tipped fingers to tear through anything, a chainsaw in the place of an arm, a cannon built into knee joints. These were masterpieces.

"Amazing, huh?" Buccaneer asked.

Miles looked over at the magazine, and was, once again, suddenly glad for the sunglasses that shielded others from seeing his eyes as he rolled them.

The two were leaning across the table with the magazine between them, grinning like kids in a candy store as they pointed out different weaponized designs to each other.

He wasn't surprised when neither one noticed he left the table. As he walked out of the cafeteria Swirbul walked past him in his white coat.

Miles hadn't gotten far when he heard Olivier's voice.

"Why didn't you tell me about these in the first place?" she demanded.

Miles shook his head, not only glad to be away from the argument that was sure to start, but also that Olivier and Buccaneer had the same strange taste in weaponry. Their similar taste meant he wouldn't need to worry about getting caught up in any heated discussions about automail.

-:-:-:-

A.N.: I need to finish this...I'm working on quite a few writing projects at once. Thanks for reading.

Thanks for reviewing: Dailenna, Legendary Chimera, Falling Knight, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	28. A Bit of Teasing

I don't own FMA

**Day 28 - Leather**

-:-:-:-

Miles saluted as Olivier boarded the train followed by Buccaneer.

Buccaneer had to shift her suitcase into his left hand along with hers to return the salute properly, but by the time he did, the dark-skinned man was waving over his shoulder as he walked away from the train, and Olivier was already stomping her way towards the car with private seating.

Buccaneer followed along behind her, careful to keep from colliding or bumping those milling about the cars they passed through. He wasn't quite as quick as she at getting through the crowd, for obvious reasons, and when he caught up to her she sat inside a closed off booth with her legs crossed and arms spread wide across the back of the seat.

She watched him with her icy eyes as he stowed their luggage in the rack above the window.

Olivier raised an eyebrow at the grimace on her subordinate's face as he sat down across from her. "Is the seating not to your liking?" she inquired.

"It's all right," he mumbled.

"But?" she demanded, her eyes challenging him.

"They're leather," he continued.

"Do you have a problem with animal skin?" she asked, her tone mocking.

Buccaneer rolled his eyes. "It isn't the greatest to sit on. When it's cold it feels clammy and when it's hot you stick to it. I'd rather be out there on those wooden benches," he elaborated.

"You can sit wherever you like, but I'm not going out there where people let their abominable children run around like this train is some sort of circus grounds," she huffed.

Buccaneer threw back his head and laughed. "The 'Northern Wall of Briggs' is afraid of children?"

"Not afraid, disgusted by," she corrected, hand resting dangerously on the hilt of her sword.

"Afraid," he repeated.

A low rumbled escaped her throat as she gripped the hilt of her sword, but she couldn't pull it on him, that would only prove his point in his mind. Instead, she got to her feet, slid open the cabin door, and walked out of the room, careful not to stomp as she did so.

Buccaneer stood there staring at the open door for a moment, not sure exactly what had happened. He'd teased her, and she'd walked away without so much as drawing her sword on him.

She poked her head back in the cabin and he stiffened, ready for attack.

"You'll be eating your words about wooden seats being more comfortable leather ones before we arrive tomorrow," she declared in a hiss.

He stared at her, not quite sure he heard her correctly.

"Did you lose all mental capacity when I walked out, or were you always like this and I never noticed?" she growled, and he jumped to his feet.

She was already on her way out of the private car when he made it to the hall with both suitcases in hand.

Vaguely wondering how she was going to repay him for this, he followed her as she made her way to the cars with open seating,

He grimaced at the thought and tucked it into the farthest corner of his mind as he tried to concentrate on not bumping any of the other passengers moving about the train.

-:-:-:-

A.N.: Woot, another update! So...leather...I was stumped and almost had to google the word for inspiration then I remembered how much I hate leather interior on cars and here we are with a response to the prompt!Thanks for reading.

Thanks for reviewing: Falling Knight, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	29. Change of Plans

I don't FMA

**Day 29: Clothes**

-:-:-:-

He knew she was waiting for him to complain about being sore from riding on the wooden bench since the morning before, but he refused to let her see even a single moment of his discomfort.

Instead, he stared out the window at the scenery flashing by, his body bouncing with the movement of the train. The jolting movements really didn't bother him so much now that he'd gone numb from the base of his spine to his thighs.

The sky was starting to go orange with the setting of the sun when the train started to slow.

He stood and stretched, his body swaying with the train's tempo.

Oliver arched her eyebrow at him.

"Bathroom," he explained, and then walked away.

Olivier smirked at his retreating back as the small wooden platform grew in the distance, its windows shining gold with the setting sun. She motioned for a worker who'd been helping an elderly couple get their bags off the over-head rack.

-:-:-:-

Buccaneer's eyes went wide with bewilderment when he found his commanding officers sitting on top of their stacked luggage outside the door of the bathroom.

"We're getting off here," she said matter-of-factly, standing as the door swung shut behind him.

"Central's another stop away," he pointed out, his tone cautious and surprised.

"We'll get a ride there in the morning."

"Your family'll probably be there waiting already."

"Another disastrous situation avoided."

Buccaneer fought the smile that tugged at his lips as he remembered her tale of their greeting from her first visit into town.

"Anyway, I told them I wouldn't be home for another two days," she admitted.

He chuckled, she narrowed her eyes at him, and he stopped.

"I know this great restaurant that people come from towns all around to eat at. I have a yearning for one of their steaks, but they have a dress code. Did you bring anything other than uniforms?" she asked as she grabbed her own suitcase and waited for him to get his.

"You said uniforms were all I'd need."

"I guess my brother will have to take you to find something appropriate to wear," she suggested through a smirk that made him want to cringe.

"Your brother?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention he's been helping rebuild the tunnel ahead?" she asked, her eyes large and innocent, quite a contrast from the smirk she'd been wearing moments before.

"I was able to call while you were in the restroom, and he'll meet us at the platform," she explained.

Buccaneer's face lost all color at her words. Her brother, the brother she always complained about, the one who stripped, the hugger, the cry-baby, the one person in her family he was not looking forward to meeting. He would actually have to spend time with him.

"You're evil," he hissed.

"I didn't become 'The Wall of Briggs' by being nice, did I?" she retorted, throwing him her best smile over her shoulder.

His shoulders slumped as the train rocked to a stop. They got off at the nearest exit, and he immediately spotted her brother towering over the small crowd of people greeting those they'd gotten off the train with.

He rolled his eyes at the sparkle that bounced off the nearly-bald man's head in the sinking sunlight.

"Livi, over here," Alex bellowed, waving furiously at the blonde in uniform he saw her in the crowd.

She frowned at him and he beamed.

As she moved closer, he saw the man behind her and his eyes narrowed. He knew she had to have a bodyguard, but was this brawny man any good, muscle didn't always mean power or strength.

Putting thoughts of this bodyguard out of his head he lunged forward through the crowd and spread his arms to engulf his sister in a hug, but the lights blinking on around the platform made her blade glint, and he let his arms fall to his sides.

"I told you it's General when I'm in uniform," she warned.

"This is First Lieutenant Buccaneer, he'll be the bodyguard Central required me to bring," she introduced, sidestepping so her brother could get a proper look at her subordinate.

She waited for him to try and crush the mustached man in a hug, but he never did. Instead, Alex stood there eyes sweeping over the man from mohawk to dark boots and back up again.

Upon seeing the alchemist sizing him up, Buccaneer extended his arm, waiting for the ridiculous man to shake his hand.

Alex took the extended hand, and was surprised to note the hand under the glove wasn't flesh and bone, but cool hard metal. "Automail," he murmured which resulted in a tighter grip, one that Alex returned, from the man.

"Well, I'll be waiting at the car," Olivier snapped.

"You're supposed to have a guard," Alex and Buccaneer argued in unison.

Olivier frowned as the two gaped at each other.

Alex nodded in approval and released the man.

Buccaneer made to grab the luggage, but Alex already had both his and Olivier's in his hands.

"Did you make all the arrangements?" Olivier demanded as Alex fell in step with her.

"Yes, a close comrade of mine, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, one of the men investigating the collapse, offered his services while we're away," Alex answered. "Oh, and I won't be making it to dinner with you, since we're returning to Central tomorrow. I have a few more places along the tunnel to check on before returning. I'll be checking tonight so that the inspectors will give me permission to leave on time," he explained.

"Hughes," Olivier repeated the name, it sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"You've met him before. Dark hair, bright green eyes, glasses, a frie—"

"Friend of Mustang," she completed his sentence.

Alex missed the venom in her voice. "You remember!"

Olivier's long hair lifted to reveal her icy eye as she let out an aggravated sigh.

"Long time, no see, General," Hughes called as the trio came into view.

Olivier scowled at the grinning man leaning against the military-issue car.

He chuckled. "As friendly as ever, I see," he murmured. "And who's this?" he asked when he spotted the man as large as Alex.

"Lieutenant Buccaneer, my guard," she said in a cold tone that promised no friendly conversation would take place.

"Well, Lieutenant, you've got your hands full haven't you?" Hughes asked, opening the door for Olivier to get in the car.

Olivier ignored his gesture and pulled open the door to the front passenger seat.

"No," Buccaneer answered, easily sensing the dark thoughts his commanding officer was thinking about the smiling man.

"I'll drive," Alex announced, fearing he'd chosen the wrong man for the job.

Hughes shrugged and climbed into the car through the door he'd opened after Buccaneer got in.

As the engine started, Hughes turned to Buccaneer. "Buccaneer, right? You're the one they sent the automail engineer for."

Buccaneer was startled by the man's knowledge, and his face must have shown it. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, I work in the intelligence and investigations department," he explained, as he made the introduction that had been skipped earlier.

"So, does it still hurt?" he asked.

Buccaneer shot a glance at the back of Olivier's head. "I'm used to it," he replied.

"I heard the recovery takes a while. Have you heard of the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

He shook his head, his braid swaying with the movement.

"Really, that slow on news up there?" Hughes mused. "He's got an automail arm and leg."

Buccaneer grimaced thinking of having double the pain.

"Yeah, arms probably not as hard to get used to as a leg, you don't have to have your weight on it all the time, but I heard the recovery usually takes a while," Hughes rambled.

"Yeah, well, we're pushed to our limits every day up there. We don't have the luxury of long recoveries," Buccaneer countered.

Hughes looked over to Olivier and laughed. "Oh, I believe you. I'm sure it hurts like hell, though."

Buccaneer nodded.

"You know, he even wears his hair braided, too," Hughes commented. "Must be awkward to braid with a metal hand. I'd think it would get caught in your fingers, or something."

Buccaneer silently wondered if this man knew how to stop talking. "Not if you wear gloves," he said.

"But then you don't have any grip and the hair would slip out of your fingers," Hughes went on.

Buccaneer groaned and found Olivier's eyes in the side mirror, silently pleading for her to shut the man up.

Hughes' eyes lit up and he nudged the big man. "I bet she knows how to braid hair," he said in a whisper.

Buccaneer's face heated and he turned to look out the window. "I wouldn't know," he muttered.

"I did when I was younger, but I wouldn't remember now," Olivier growled, turning around in her seat to glare daggers at Hughes. "Now, would you just shut up, or do I have I order you to?"

Hughes shrugged. "Want to see pictures of my wife?" he offered, reaching into his jacket.

"No!" Olivier roared and turned back around.

"Oh, look, the hotel!" Alex boomed.

Buccaneer heaved a sigh of relief.

As Alex pulled to the curb outside the hotel and put the car into park Olivier got out. "I can check us in on my own. I'm hungry, so don't take too long," she ordered.

Hughes scrambled out of the car with the spare keys and opened the trunk. As he was reaching for the suitcases, she grabbed them and slammed the trunk. He narrowly avoided getting his fingers stuck as it closed.

"Later, Livi," Alex bellowed as he pulled away.

"This'll be fun," Hughes murmured under his breath as he followed Olivier into the hotel doors that the usher opened for them.

He stood back while she checked in and silently followed her to the elevator. He marveled at the fact that someone was actually paid to push the buttons in the elevator.

"It's probably not all he does," Olivier remarked.

Hughes looked at the redheaded young man, eagerly awaiting his answer. "I was just hired yesterday, haven't been trained anywhere else," he said, and Hughes grinned

Olivier shot him a glare as the elevator doors opened.

"I'll see you in a couple hours," Hughes told the redhead as the doors slid closed.

He had to run to catch up with Olivier, and even then, had to stick his foot in the door before it closed.

She growled as he softly closed the door behind himself.

"This'll go well as long as you keep quiet," she threatened.

"What are you going to do, slice me up and get yourself arrested?" he mocked as he took a seat in one of the armchairs surrounding a small table.

"I'll report you for insubordination."

"I'll fight it and make things a pain in the ass for you, remember I'm in intelligence and investigations, I know how to do that," he countered.

Hughes smiled in triumph as she twirled around and made her way to the bathroom. "I'll be getting ready for dinner, do as you please."

He studied the room in silence. When his eyes fell on the two full sized beds situated a few feet from each other, a grin lit his face.

-:-:-:-

"How long have you been at Briggs?" Alex asked as they wandered into a clothing shop he knew well.

"Just over six years, fresh from the academy."

"Right after Livi got there, but only six years, what did you do before?"

"I helped with the family business, but I didn't want to work the mines all my life, hated spending most my days underground," he explained, wondering if he was seeing the same Alex that Olivier had complained about.

"How can I help you, Mr. Armstrong?" a small woman dressed in a dark green skirt suit asked as she approached them.

"My friend, Bucky, needs some formal wear for the night," Alex explained.

Buccaneer took back his last thought. "Buccaneer," he corrected, holding back a shudder at the nickname Alex had given him.

"Right, Sir. Right this way. We always keep things on hand for when Mr. Armstrong stops by," she said as she led them to the back.

"Oh, that purple one," Alex suggested.

"Do you have anything in black or blue?" Buccaneer asked, frowning at the bright purple shirt Alex had grabbed.

The woman pulled a marine blue, long-sleeved button-up from the rack. He nodded.

"You should let us tailor a pair of the pants to better fit you," she suggested when he came out of the dressing room.

"How long will that take?" Alex asked, looking to the clock on the wall.

"Mr. Stanley is here, so it shouldn't take longer than a half-hour," she speculated as she walked around Buccaneer to see how much work the pants needed.

"Did someone call me?" and man with a head full of gray hair and lightly-wrinkled face asked as he approached them.

"We'll be needing a quick tailoring," the woman answered.

"Mr. Armstrong, and who is this fellow with you?" Mr. Stanley greeted.

"Lieutenant Buccaneer from Briggs, Mr. Stanley" Alex introduced the two.

"Briggs? Is your lovely sister here, too?" the old man asked.

"Livi's waiting on Bucky so they can go to dinner," he explained.

"Buccaneer," he corrected, again.

"Oh, a date. The pants don't need much of an alteration, and the jacket fits well. Eh, it could do with some taking in at the back. You're build is quite similar to Alex's, Bucky."

"Buccaneer."

"That's what I said. I'll need to stick a few pins in, so hold still," the man warned. He pulled open a drawer from the counter holding ties and produced a something that looked like a small duck with pins sticking out of it.

In moments, Buccaneer sat in the dressing room with only his boxers and the blue shirt on while he waited for the pants and jacket to be altered.

"So, it's a date?" Alex asked.

"I never said that. Didn't she invite you, too?" Buccaneer reminded him through the curtain.

Alex had been so surprised when Olivier had asked him to join them for dinner over the phone that he'd forgotten that he wasn't going because he had work to do, not because she hadn't invited him.

"Well, now it is," he said after a moment of silence. "What are your intentions with my sister?" he demanded.

"I'm her subordinate, her guard, nothing more," Buccaneer grumbled.

Alex mumbled an unconvinced apology. His sister usually would have laughed at someone being harassed by Hughes, as long as it wasn't her the man's questions were directed at she never paid him heed.

-:-:-:-

Hughes looked up as the bathroom door opened, emitting a cloud of steam as Olivier marched into the room in a big shirt and loose fitting pants, her hair wrapped in a towel.

"I thought there was a dress code for the restaurant," he said.

"There is," she barked.

He watched her as she looked from him to where her suitcase rested on one of the beds.

Olivier whirled around on him when she saw the two beds had been pushed together.

"What in the name o—"

"What? You told me to do as I please, and I thought I might as well make myself useful," he said and winked at her.

"You! You better put them back the way they were," she roared.

"It'll be more work for you two later, but fine," he complied.

"He's just a subordinate," she defended as she closed herself back in the bathroom.

"I've heard that one before," Hughes muttered to himself as he walked over to the beds.

-:-:-:-

"Finally," Hughes muttered as a knock sounded the on the door.

"We're here," Alex called through the door.

"I can see that," Hughes said as he pulled away from the peep hole and unlocked the door.

"Well, don't you look sharp," Hughes complimented as Buccaneer entered the room followed by Alex.

"They even put a matching bow on his braid," Alex pointed out.

"It finishes off the look well," Hughes observed.

"They didn't have to, it was already blue," Buccaneer complained.

"But not the same blue," Alex protested.

"Good, you're here," Olivier said as she opened the bathroom door.

"Livi, you look beautiful," Alex complimented.

"Thanks," she said off-handedly.

"Aww, you two match," Hughes pointed out as he saw the marine blue scoop neck she wore with cream colored dress pants and a fitted jacket of the same color.

Olivier rolled her eyes. "Coincidence."

Hughes drove this time, his eyes looking to the pair in the rear-view mirror as much as they looked at the road. The short drive was silent except for Alex apologizing for having to miss out on the great meal.

"Do you want us to send a car back?" Alex asked as his sister and Buccaneer got out of the car in front of Chez Tomas.

"It isn't far, we can walk back," Olivier declined.

"You better take care of her, Bucky, anyone can be on the streets," Alex told him.

"Remember, I'm not helpless," Olivier growled, patting the sword at her side.

"See you in the morning," Alex called as Hughes pulled the car away from the curb.

"Bucky?" Olivier asked a brow raised at Buccaneer.

"Livi?" he retorted.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Just because he gets away with it, it doesn't mean you can," she threatened.

He laughed, and she gave him a worried look. "C'mon, I'm hungry," she ordered, leaving him standing on the sidewalk.

He followed her into the restaurant where the hostess immediately led them to a small candle-lit table.

"Was your brother supposed to be punishment?" he asked as the waiter produced a bottle of wine.

"What's this?" Olivier asked, ignoring his question.

"This is the finest wine in the house, it's complimentary for the Armstrong family," he explained.

Olivier nodded, watching as the deep red, almost purple, Cabernet filled her wineglass.

"Was it?" Buccaneer asked again when the waiter left.

"Did it seem like it?" she asked as she lifted the wineglass to her face and took in the smell of what seemed like dark licorice and plum.

"He's not that bad," Buccaneer answered.

"Traitor," she declared.

He shrugged. "He's right though, you do look beautiful tonight."

"I thought you learned long ago that flattery will get you nowhere."

"Eh, I figured I could try."

"Maybe I should have my sister put you at the same table as Hughes for the reception," she suggested.

"I'd rather lose the other arm," he admitted.

"I can arrange that," she teased.

-:-:-:-

"We're going the wrong way," Alex pointed out.

"I left some of my pictures of Gracia in their hotel room. I want to get them back in one piece," Hughes explained.

Alex nodded, knowing his sister, he didn't object.

"I'll only be a moment, why don't you wait here," Hughes suggested as he stopped the car.

Alex didn't mind, it had been a long day, and he still had to make some last minute repairs when they returned.

"How's the button pushing going?" Hughes asked the redhead.

"Eh, it's a job," he replied halfheartedly.

"Hold the elevator, I'll only be a moment."

The redhead nodded, and eyed Hughes curiously when he returned with a satisfied grin on his face.

"If that blond asks, I was never here," he said, holding out a handful of cash to the young man.

He nodded and accepted the money.

-:-:-:-

A.N. - This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would...and Hughes made an unexpected appearance! Don't you love him? Thanks for reading! **Edited** a few chapters for some inconsistencies. **A quick note:** Mustang and co were in Central on business. This is set while he is still stationed in Eastern, sometime between when Ed was made a State Alchemist and before Elysia was born.

Thanks for reviewing: Falling Knight, Sonar, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselds Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	30. Let Them Eat Cake

I don't own FMA

**Day 30: France**

-:-:-:-

"Where is that babbling idiot?" Olivier demanded upon seeing her brother waiting for them in the lobby.

"Who?"

"Hughes, who else?" she huffed.

"Probably at home with his wife," Alex guessed.

"Next time I see him," she trailed off as Buccaneer walked out of the hotel and to the car.

"I'll drive," she said, and stuck out her open hand, waiting for Alex to give her the keys.

"No detours," he said.

"I'll make that decision."

"I've already told everyone we'll be home within the next hour or so."

"Keys," she demanded.

"They want you to help pick out the cake," he reasoned.

"Cake is trivial compared to what he did!" she huffed.

"I know you don't care, but Arm-e wants you there," he implored holding the keys out of reach over his head.

He took a step away as her hand went to her sword.

Alex's eyes went wide as they keys were suddenly tugged out of his hand. Behind him Buccaneer grinned.

Olivier gave her brother a satisfied look and for a moment he thought she was going to stick her tongue out at him like she had when they were growing up.

Instead, he got to watch her smirk fade as Buccaneer said, "I'll be driving."

He almost argued, but this was a victory for him. A victory over his sister. A victory her own subordinate had helped him gain over her. He grinned. "C'mon Livi, some of the best bakers in Central have been whipping up samples all through the night."

Buccaneer ignored the glare she was shooting him. It was no use worrying over how she was going to retaliate quite yet.

Alex was the first to the car, and he held the door open for her, just as Hughes had done the night before, and she ignored his gesture just as she had ignored Hughes'.

"I suppose I can stretch out back here and get some needed rest," he thought aloud as she got into the front passenger seat.

"Whatever pleases you, Brother," she hissed, throwing the suitcase she held into the backseat with him.

Alex didn't even grunt at the blow. He righted the suitcase in the space next to his feet and silently rubbed his arm where the corner had caught him.

"Just keep following this street, at the stop make a right," she told Buccaneer as the engine revved to life.

Alex was woken from his sleep by Olivier hitting him with her suitcase as she pulled it to the front seat and got out of the car.

"We're here?" he asked groggily, realizing at the moment how long the he'd been awake checking for even the smallest cracks in the tunnel, and giving his opinion that the collapse had been solely a result of the tracks being icy.

"Livi, you're earlier than we thought," Catherine called from the front yard where a huge white tent had been set up.

"What's this?" she demanded warily.

"Well, you know Mother and Father. Why do something small when you have the resources to do otherwise. Allen's family is here and a few of the guests who live in town have joined us," she explained.

Buccaneer got his own suitcase from the trunk and walked up beside Olivier.

"Who's this?" Catherine asked, gazing at the tall man admiringly.

"The guard Central has required me to have during my stay here, First Lieutenant Buccaneer. Lieutenant, my youngest sister, Catherine," Olivier introduced.

"Hi," Catherine murmured shyly, batting her eyelashes at him.

Olivier masked her disgust at her sister's near-flirting.

Alex joined them.

"Wow, I've never seen anyone aside from my sister who was as tall as my brother," Catherine murmured.

"Everyone in my family is tall," Buccaneer commented.

Alex would have jumped for joy at his baby sister finally being interested in a man, and one he approved up, but from the way Olivier had hushed Hughes the night before he knew better than to be excited. This could possibly be disastrous.

"Why don't I show you the room Mother has prepared for you, Bucky," Alex suggested.

Olivier watched Catherine moon after Buccaneer as he was led to the house by Alex.

"I bet he's strong, just like Brother," Catherine sighed.

"All of my soldiers are strong," Olivier snapped.

"I'm going to sit next to him," Catherine announced.

Olivier rolled her eyes. "I have to put my own suitcase away, I'll be there in a minute."

"I'll let Mother know you're here," Catherine called as Olivier made her way to the house.

Olivier trudged up the staircase and to her room. It was spotless as usual with their well trained staff.

She flopped down on her bed.

Her brother had won an argument against her, with the help of her own subordinate, one she trusted with not only her life, but the lives of other soldiers, and now Catherine was all starry-eyed over him. She groaned into the comforter. This was going to be a long month.

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts. "I'll be down in a minute," she called as she rolled over onto her back.

"Your brother said I should wait for you," Buccaneer called through the door.

Olivier marched to the door and opened it. He'd been standing with his back to the door, and before he could turn around she yanked him into her room by the collar of his shirt.

"When we get down there, Catherine is going to be on you faster than a Drachman. Don't encourage her, but don't break her heart. Lie if you have to," she demanded.

She was red in the face, and sure she had stuttered at some point in there.

He grinned down at her. "What if she's a stubborn as a certain wall?"

"Just be yourself, she'll loose interest," Olivier advised matter-of-factly.

Buccaneer laughed.

"Well, the sooner the better, eh?" he said and turned away from her.

She nodded to his back and followed him until they got to the front door.

"My family is strange," she warned as she took the lead.

"I've noticed," he commented.

Their march to the big white tent was silent except for the grass crunching under their feet.

"Ah, the final guests have arrived," her mother announced from somewhere in the middle of the sea of tables as they stepped into the tent. A small boy rushed up to them and ushered them to a table in the center of the pavilion.

Her father stood once they were seated. Olivier sat with Alex on her left and Buccaneer on her right. She rolled her eyes as Catherine giggled on Buccaneer's right.

Her father tapped a fork against the glass in his hand. The crowd in pavilion quieted down with the clinking.

"First, I have to thank all the wonderful bakers who agreed to this. Secondly, thank you to everyone for joining us on such short notice. In just under three weeks, we'll all be coming together again to celebrate the union between the Armstrongs and Walkers. Today, we ask you to all to help us in choosing the all important wedding cake for the special day. Feel free to state your opinions of each cake on the provided cards," he encouraged. As he sat down streamers flew across the enclosed space and banners reading "Let Them Eat Cake" unfurled along the sides of the tent.

Olivier nearly dropped her head into her hands, but at her father's laughter she made a quick recovery and tucked her hair behind her ears instead.

-:-:-:-

A.N. - I know some may be wondering how exactly this piece integrated France. At first, I was going to use up my three of my five prompt changes on the country prompts(France, Rome and Egypt). Instead, I decided to try and shy away from that idea. Just because the FMA world doesn't have those countries doesn't mean I can't use them to influence fic, sure there won't be anything obvious like the Eiffel Tower, Trevi Fountain, or Pyramids, but I can take history, the essence of the country, or even saying about them. I used two bits of France in here. First the history of Bastille Day came into play. Bastille Day celebrates the first, though small, victory of the Parisian people over the Ancien Régime. The second bit of France I brought it was the national motto: Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité (Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity/Brotherhood), I don't think an explanation is really needed for how I used that. "Let them eat cake," can only be defined in origin as French, but many historians have different opinions on who exactly said the phrase and whether it was exactly that. **Anyway, happy halfway mark!** Also, _I made a few changes in past chapters to fix little inconsistencies_ that I'd overlooked upon picking this project back up. This fic takes place after Ed has been made a State Alchemist, but before the birth of Elysia. Havoc had been in town with the rest of Roy's group on a short assignment. I think that covers it all, and cookies to you if you read all this! Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: WargishBoromirFan, Falling Knight, Legendary Chimera, Sonar, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselda Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	31. Gardenias to Tulips

I don't own FMA

**Day 31 - Apart**

-:-:-:-

"So, what do you say, Buccaneer?" asked Allen.

Olivier stared on in horror.

"Well, I guess if you haven't got anyone else," he said sheepishly.

"You'd be doing me quite the favor since my cousin can't make it. His wife delivered their baby early, and the doctor's say their both in too fragile a condition to be traveling any time soon. I can't ask him to leave his wife and son in the care of anyone else," he explained.

Olivier silently ticked off names in her head. "Did you add a bridesmaid?" she asked Arm-e

Arm-e shook her head and smiled at Olivier, a smile that meant she was about to reveal something Olivier would rather not know.

"I haven't gotten a chance to ask yet, but you wouldn't say no, would you?" Arm-e said.

Her mother smirked at her.

She stabbed at a slice of potato on her plate.

"Don't think this'll make me reconsider wearing a dress," she grumbled.

Allen and her father shared a pleased glance that everyone else missed in the wake of her answer.

Arm-e grinned and promised not to bring up the subject of dresses.

"What do you say, Buccaneer?" Allen repeated.

Olivier sent him a look that promised trouble if he didn't agree.

He looked from Olivier to her engaged sister and finally back to the groom to be. "Sure," he agreed.

"You're so nice," Catherine purred.

"So that means we'll have to fit in a stop at the tailors sometime between going through all those feedback cards and going to the baker's," her mother said, pulling out a notebook and looking through it.

"I know where the shop is, I can take him. It's on the way to Aunt Laurel's anyway," Olivier suggested.

"Why are you going to Aunt Laurel's?" Catherine asked her eyes wide with surprise.

"I only stayed here last night because I was exhausted from the train ride," she explained.

"Mother," Catherine objected.

"It's all right, darling. After all, she is on vacation, and I don't blame her for wanting to be somewhere more relaxing, more private," her father cut in before her mother even managed to open her mouth in response. Olivier didn't miss the wink he gave her.

She scowled.

Catherine blinked at her, not sure why her sister would scowl when she was getting her way.

"Phillip!" her mother scolded.

"More relaxing," she growled.

Despite her mother's chiding, her father waggled his eyebrows at Buccaneer.

"So, what else do we have planned for today," Allen asked, changing the subject for the man who'd just agreed to be one of his groomsmen.

"Didn't you get an itinerary?" Arm-e asked.

"I must have left it in my room."

"After we choose the right cake, we'll go to the baker and discuss designs. Then, there are a couple more locations to look at. After that, I'm afraid we don't have much else planned aside from greeting your family and convincing them there is plenty of room for them to stay here."

"Augustina, you can't force them to stay here," Philip commented.

"Everything will less be complicated if we're all together," she argued, shooting a venomous glance at her oldest daughter.

"My family just doesn't want to impose, I'm sure they can be swayed," Allen chimed in.

"Do you really want to make things more complicated for Mom, Sister?" Catherine asked.

"It will only be as complicated as she makes it," Olivier huffed.

"Now then, what will be, will be. Let's all finish breakfast so we can start getting the day's work done," her father ordered, effectively stopping any argument or snide comments from continuing.

-:-:-:-

"All of this is your fault," Olivier hissed as they entered the tailor's.

Buccaneer tilted his head to the side in question.

"If you hadn't even considered his proposal for you to be part of the wedding party they wouldn't have been able to drag me into it, too," she concluded.

"You could have told her no," he suggested.

"I couldn't have told her no anymore that I could leave on a train to Briggs tonight."

He shrugged.

"'What will be, will be,'" he quoted her father.

A low growl escaped Olivier's throat.

"General, I thought you didn't need the dress uniform anymore," a voice called from behind them.

Buccaneer raised an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head.

"No, Mr. Goldstern, there's been a slight change to the bridal party. We'll need a matching suit for Lieutenant Buccaneer," she explained.

"Oh, a friend of Alex?" he inquired.

"Sort of."

"Lieutenant Buccaneer, from Briggs," he introduced himself.

"From Briggs," Goldstern echoed, sending a curious glance in Olivier's direction as he led Buccaneer to the back.

Olivier sighed as she sat down on the same bench where she'd tested Allen all those days ago.

-:-:-:-

"You're back, and who is this?" Laurel asked pointing at the mohawked man with her pruning shears.

"The personal guard Central requires me to have since my office was bombed," she explained.

"Guard, so he has to stay here, too. As long as you both work, I don't mind," Laurel told them.

"He's a quick study."

Buccaneer looked between the two, not quite following the conversation.

"Good. Now, does this whole guard business mean he has to stay in the same room as you, or should I get out the blankets for the other room?"

"I know where the blankets are, I'll get them," Olivier said quickly. Of all people, she couldn't have her aunt especially suspect anything.

The doorbell rang.

Olivier had forgotten the thing was so loud it could be heard in the backyard.

Laurel made her way to the gate.

Olivier rushed after her. "Wait, don't tell them we're here yet," she asked in a whisper.

"Aunty, it's Catherine," a voice called from the other side of the gate.

Laurel stared at her favorite niece.

Olivier wondered if the face she was making looked anything like the puppy-dog looks she used to give her father all those years ago…she was quite out of practice.

"Let me clean up a bit, and I'll meet you 'round the front," Laurel called back.

Olivier smiled triumphantly.

"You owe me an explanation," Laurel said in a whisper as she passed her niece.

Olivier nodded.

-:-:-:-

"She wants to have lunch with you tomorrow, alone," Laurel said.

Olivier sighed.

"Well?"

Olivier avoided her aunt's commanding gaze and took a sip of her coffee.

"She likes me," Buccaneer answered in his superior's silence.

Olivier nearly spit up the sip she'd just taken.

Laurel laughed.

"What's the problem with that? It's her first crush," Laurel mused.

"The problem is that we'll be going back to Briggs, and it'll break her heart, or she'll always be writing me to ask about him, it'll just cause another unwanted annoyance," Olivier answered.

"Going by your motto, a little pain is the only way she'll learn," Laurel reminded her.

"Well, I can't have him becoming a love-struck fool while we're here," Olivier snapped.

"He seems like he has a good head on his shoulders. I don't think you have to worry. Well, I need to be taking those roses to my shop before the afternoon rush. Why don't you show him how I like the gardenias cut," Laurel suggested as she got to her feet.

Olivier froze at the mention of gardenias.

"Yes, I think gardenias are the perfect start for you two," she chuckled as she left them sitting in her kitchen.

Buccaneer frowned at the dumbstruck expression on Olivier's face.

"General?"

"I…I think she might be sharper than my sword," she breathed as she recalled her aunt testing her on flower meanings when she'd asked to work in her flower shop to earn some independence before she'd finished school.

"_The first flower your uncle gave me was a gardenia, now he gives me yellow tulips. What's changed?"_

"_Your love isn't secret anymore."_

-:-:-:-

A.N. - Can't wait for the little luncheon! Gardenias: Secret Love. Yellow Tulips: Bold Declaration of Love. So, now we've got names for the Armstrong parents, her father's is official, Phillip Gargantos, while I took the liberty of making one for her mother, Augustina. Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Legendary Chimera, Smiling Cat, WargishBoromirFan, Falling Knight, Sonar, Dailenna, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Griselda Banks, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	32. Inquiring Minds

I don't own FMA

**Day 32 - Lovers**

-:-:-:-

"Alone," Catherine whined.

"If it's really that important, I suppose he can stand out in the hall," Olivier acquiesced and dismissed Buccaneer from his post along the wall covered in floral wallpaper with a wave of her hand.

Catching Catherine's gaze follow Buccaneer as he left the room, Olivier rolled her eyes.

"He's so handsome," Catherine breathed as a dreamy look glossed over her eyes.

"If you like his sort, I suppose," Olivier huffed.

"Oh, I do! That's why I wanted to have lunch with you," she gushed in a hushed voice.

Olivier straightened herself in her seat and raised an eyebrow at her sister.

"You see, most men are intimidated by my strength," Catherine confessed. "But not men like Brother, they're strong, so they don't mind," she reasoned.

"Just because a man is strong it doesn't mean he'll accept a woman just as strong," Olivier argued.

"He will. After all, he works for you, and you're the strongest woman I know," Catherine concluded.

Olivier was slightly shocked by her sister's tone of awe, but didn't let it shake her from the conversation.

"It's his job. He has to follow the orders of any higher ranking officer than him, whether male or female, strong or weak, strict or lax," Olivier reminded her.

"I still don't think he'll mind," Catherine pouted.

"You'll have to find out for yourself."

Catherine sighed, her sister wasn't making this easy for her, not that she'd expected her to.

She took a bite of a chicken sandwich the cook had packed for her to bring over for lunch.

"Was that all?" Olivier demanded.

Catherine shook her head. "I had a few questions that I thought you could answer," she explained.

Olivier leaned into the back of the chair and crossed her arms under her breasts as she waited to hear her sister's query.

"Is…is he free?"

Olivier smirked. "I'm not quite sure where he is on the pay-scale, but he is paid a reasonable sum for his time."

"Sister, I…I meant, is he seeing anyone right now." She blushed. "You know, does he, uhm, have a…a lover?" Catherine stammered.

"I don't keep any records on my soldiers past their performance logs, training history, medical records, rank, and pay," she told her. "Everything else is personal, and as long as they don't bring it to the fort, it stays outside."

Catherine frowned. "What about when he was injured. Surely if he had someone, she would have been there worrying over him," Catherine suggested.

Olivier looked up to the ceiling in thought.

Catherine eagerly leaned forward.

"Now that you mention it, I do recall him calling someone his queen once," Olivier revealed.

Catherine looked absolutely crestfallen, and Olivier almost felt pity for her youngest sister.

That was until Catherine's eyes sparkled back to life. "Whoever this queen is, she isn't here, so I'm not backing down!" she declared.

"Loyalty is his best trait," Olivier objected.

"He's in the military, of course he's loyal at work, but that doesn't mean he can't change his mind about love," Catherine explained, using Olivier's earlier logic against her.

"Why even ask if you were going to chase after him no matter the answer?" Olivier demanded.

"I just wanted to know if I had competition."

"Well, have at him, then. Just don't cry to me when we leave and you're heartbroken over him," she hissed.

"'Better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all'," Catherine recited, her eyes gleaming with determination.

Fighting the urge that made her fingers twitch, Olivier picked up a sandwich of her own and began chomping away at it.

-:-:-:-

A.N. -Oh, Catherine... Thanks fore reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Griselda Banks, Silvery Mist, Legendary Chimera, Smiling Cat, WargishBoromirFan, Falling Knight, Sonar, Dailenna, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	33. Over the Moon

I don't own FMA

**Day 33 - Moon**

-:-:-:-**  
**

Olivier rolled her eyes as Catherine squished herself into the backseat of the car on the opposite side of Buccaneer.

"I knew we'd only need one car," Strong-ko cried triumphantly as she turned the key in the ignition.

Arm-e turned around in the front seat. "So, did you have a place in mind, Livi?"

"Aunt Laurel suggested a place where they have live music during the weekends," Olivier answered, somehow managing not to growl at the use of the name Alex had given her.

"Didn't she say it's more of a place for men?" Buccaneer inquired.

"No, she just said it's usual frequented by men because the entire staff is female," Olivier corrected.

"Oh, I know where that is," Strong-ko said and maneuvered the car into an alleyway with a sharp right.

Catherine squeaked as Buccaneer leaned into to her with the momentum of the turn.

He mumbled an apology as he righted himself.

"Strongie!" Arm-e shouted. "Are you trying to kill us? I'll drive on the way home."

"Oh, it's just a little fun," Strong-ko protested.

"I know drunkards who could operate a vehicle better in worse conditions," Olivier complained.

"And your driving is so much better," Strong-ko mocked.

"That was years ago, when I was first learning!" she growled.

The ride continued quietly, except for the sounds of the engine rumbling.

Buccaneer looked between the two women, glad for the bench seat in the front putting even more room between the two sisters glaring at each other in the review mirror from opposite sides of the car.

"Isn't that it?" he said, breaking the tension that had been building in the car.

"It would have taken twice as long for us to get here from the main streets," Strong-ko pointed out. "It looks like there's no parking on the street," she complained as she slowed the car down to read the signpost.

"There's always some in the back," Arm-e recalled. "But, it looks busy inside. Livi, we should go in and find a table," she suggested.

Olivier opened her mouth to protest that no decent bar could possibly be bustling before 2200 hours, but Arm-e had already hopped out of the car and opened Olivier's door.

"C'mon," she demanded as a horn blared behind them.

"I'll go, too," Catherine said, unfastening her seat belt.

"No, go with Strongie," Arm-e said hastily. "You can help her if she has to parallel park."

"Hey!" Strong-ko complained.

Catherine heaved a sigh, but didn't argue.

Buccaneer hurriedly climbed out of the car which took off down the street before the door had even closed all the way.

"I don't know why you were so insistent on us getting a table right away," Olivier quipped as they walked into the half-empty bar.

Arm-e narrowed her eyes. "You've been acting strange. Mother said you must have something planned."

"Just a night out with the sisters I hardly ever see. I've been dragged around by you guys for days, why not let me return the favor," Olivier defended.

Buccaneer glanced around the room in order to hide the smirk that crossed his face at the panic he heard in her voice.

"Father said it was probably the full moon doing its work," Arm-e replied.

"The full moon, huh?" Olivier echoed with a shrug of her shoulders. "Since we're here, I'll go get a round of drinks," she said as she turned away.

Buccaneer followed her as she made her way through the maze of circular tables and stools to the bar across the room.

An older woman looked up from the mug she was drying. "What'll it be?"

"Sake and three vodkas mixed with something sweet and make them as strong as you can," she answered a wicked gleam in her eyes.

"It'll take more than that to get your friend drunk," the woman mused, her dark eyes flashing over to where Arm-e sat.

Olivier stared at the woman a moment. There was something oddly familiar about her. "No, she's not the one wanting to get drunk. That one'll be in a moment, and she's never had alcohol before."

"Just make sure to get her to the bathroom if she turns green," the woman warned.

Olivier nodded and pulled out her military identification and wrote down her account number to start a tab.

"A long way from Birggs, aren't you?" the barkeep asked.

"Family wedding," she explained.

"Armstrong family weddings, I hear those are quite eventful."

"If you don't mind that kind of thing," she huffed.

"It looks like the rest of you party has arrived, Major General. Vanessa will bring your drinks by. The band starts in half an hour."

Olivier turned and found Strong-ko and Catherine joining Arm-e at a table close to the stage.

"The drinks will be here in a moment," Olivier announced as she sat down next to Catherine.

Catherine sent her a questioning glare and she shook her head.

A growl escaped Olivier's throat as a foot found her ankle. She glared at Catherine, who sat there smiling like a fool as she chatted with Arm-e about how beautiful the sketches of her wedding gown were.

Olivier scowled and returned the kick.

Not even a flash of displeasure showed on Catherine's face and Olivier found herself (grudgingly) feeling a note of respect for her youngest sister.

"Livi, did you happen to ask where the bathroom was while you were ordering the drinks?" Catherine asked through a bright smile.

Olivier grimaced. "Over there," she said, pointing to a little hall to the right of the bar.

"Would you come with me?"

"Why, there's no need."

Catherine huffed, but got up and made her way to the bathroom.

"Livi," Arm-e pleaded.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I already know what she wants," Olivier protested.

"Well?" Strong-ko inquired.

"I'm not moving," Olivier declared.

Buccaneer looked nervously between the two obviously strong women and his commanding officer, stronger than both of them. He sighed, and just as he was about to open his mouth Strong-ko left the seat she'd occupied to his right and took the seat Catherine had vacated.

"She's never going to learn to fight for what she wants if you guys always give everything to her," Olivier complained.

"Sake?" a woman asked just as Catherine joined them at the table with a triumphant smile on her lips.

"Here," Olivier said. "The rest go to them," she explained as she pointed to her sisters.

"And for the gentleman?" she asked, her brown eyes studying him curiously.

"Just water for tonight," he answered.

"So, why'd you join the military?" Catherine asked as she scooted her stool closer to Buccaneer.

"Wanted to get away from the family business," he said.

"Why?" Catherine asked, surprised that anyone would choose to leave their family. She still didn't understand how her oldest sister could live so far away from home for so long.

"I'm not very fond of mines," he elaborated.

"Afraid?" she asked, her voice a note higher with astonishment.

Buccaneer threw back his head and laughed. "I missed the sky," he told her.

Olivier shook her head. She turned away from Buccaneer and looked to Arm-e. Never being one for small talk unless it concerned military matters, she had to search her mind a moment for a topic. "How'd you meet Allen?" she finally asked.

Half-listening as Arm-e mentioned something about an archery competition, she watched as a few men went in and out of the back entrance, carrying in microphones, guitars, the pieces of a drum set, and a saxophone to add to the piano already set up on the stage.

By the time Arm-e had finished her tale, the bar had gotten quite loud, and Olivier found most of her attention on Catherine giggling at Buccaneer's retelling of Miles daughters sneaking into the fort.

She looked over to Catherine and noticed her sister's face was flushed and the glass she held in her hand had been nearly emptied.

"They were quite amusing," Olivier recalled.

Music started, piano accompanied by saxophone.

People cheered, people danced, and, when the drums joined in on the second song, Catherine sloppily clapped to the beat.

Olivier caught the barkeep's eyes, and Vanessa rushed out with a tray of drinks in a matter of minutes.

"I still don't know about music for the reception," Arm-e complained.

"Jazz is nice," Strong-ko told her, her foot tapping with the beat.

"Mhm, but we'll want traditional music for dancing, too," Arm-e reasoned.

"You're braid is so adorable," Catherine gushed, pulling at the end of Buccaneer's hair.

Tugging said braid away from her, he took Olivier's glass out of her hands and chugged the remains.

"Some guard you are," Olivier criticized.

"Some leader you are, putting me in this situation just to have some fun," he countered in a whisper.

"You don't like the attention?" she hissed.

Buccaneer's reply died in his throat as a thud sounded beside him. Catherine looked up into his eyes with a dazed expression as she rubbed her head. "Ow," she murmured. "You're arm hurts."

"Automail," he told her, removing his glove for her to see.

She laughed and took a drink from the glass the woman had left in front of her.

"Cold," she murmured as she touched his metal fingers.

"This one is frigid-weather-mail, so it doesn't get as cold as most," he pointed out.

She started to giggle, but her giggles quickly turned to hiccups, and she went red with embarrassment.

In an attempt to drown out the hiccups she gulped down the rest of her drink.

Olivier watched her with a raised brow. "That good, huh?" she asked.

"Huh?" Catherine said over the music, but before Olivier could repeat herself the question registered in her mind. "Oh, hiccups," she explained.

Buccaneer frowned.

He'd never seen anyone try to cure hiccups that way when drinking.

"I…I need to use the bathroom," she blurted out and attempted to get off the stool, only to stumble.

Buccaneer quickly grabbed a hold of her before she tumbled over. She grinned at him. "I think you like me," she half-sang, looking up at him with glassy eyes.

"I'll go with her," Strong-ko offered and lead Catherine away with an arm around her waist.

"That's so nice of you Arm-e," Catherine mumbled. Strong-ko shook her head, but didn't correct her.

Buccaneer groaned as he heard the younger of the two mumble something about there needing to be a double wedding.

Arm-e watched the pair with an amused smile on her lips. "She's probably going to feel awful in the morning."

"Probably," Olivier agreed.

"She's over-the-moon with you," Arm-e noted with a glance in Buccaneer's direction.

He shrugged and took Olivier's drink again.

"If you can't make it up the stairs, you're sleeping in the garden," she scolded, taking the glass away from him before he downed it all.

"You know I can handle more than this," he reminded her.

"I should make you pay the tab since you've had more to drink than I have," she told him.

"You can still have more," he argued.

"You two must have worked together a long time, you bicker li—" Arm-e didn't finish her thought. Instead she looked between the two, her mouth frozen mid-word in mild shock.

Olivier spotted her sister gaping at her and turned away from Buccaneer to her. "Are you trying to collect flies?"

Arm-e slowly closed her mouth and shook her head.

"We're you saying something?" Buccaneer asked.

"I, uh, no," she replied, not quite sure she could bring herself to say it again.

Before she could fully process the stipulations of her suspicions, Strong-ko returned with Catherine clutching at her arm.

"It's hot," she complained as she unsteadily got back on the stool.

"No, we're going home," Strong-ko told her.

Catherine stuck her lips out in a pout. "Not yet."

"Oh, trust me, you'll be wishing you'd gone home earlier in the morning," Strong-ko lectured.

"You're no fun," Catherine whined as Strong-ko helped her back to her feet.

Arm-e stood and waited for Olivier and Buccaneer to do the same, but they didn't.

"Aren't you coming with us?"

"We'll walk, it's not far with the shortcut Strong-ko showed us," Olivier answered.

Arm-e nodded. "You should probably get back to Auntie's before you're having as much trouble walking as her," Arm-e lectured.

"You don't have to worry about us getting like that," Olivier replied as Arm-e followed after Strong-ko and Catherine.

Olivier caught the all too familiar eyes of the barkeep again and raised her glass. The woman nodded, and in seconds Venessa was taking the empty cup from Olivier and replacing it with a full one.

"She mentioned a double wedding," Buccaneer choked.

Olivier laughed and sipped at her sake.

They listened to the music in silence, her drumming her fingers on the table to the rhythm and him tapping his foot.

"She wants to steal you from your queen," Olivier said ruefully in between songs.

"She does, does she?" he asked, his voice full of amusement.

Olivier frowned and shook the fuzzy thoughts from her head.

"It's stuffy in here, we should go," she mumbled.

He nodded, hoping she didn't notice he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

"It really is a full moon," she noted once they got outside.

While they were walking back she marveled at how busy Central was at night. The streets were so packed with people going to and fro that she had to walk so close to Buccaneer their arms bumped each other every now and then.

A car drove by and men, or were they teenagers, hollered out the windows.

"And I suddenly remember why I prefer Briggs, without even thinking of my family," she mumbled.

Buccaneer grunted his agreement. "And the skies are clearer up there, too. Too many bright lights here to even see the night sky properly," he added.

-:-:-:-

A.N. - Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Falling Knight, Silvery Mist, Griselda Banks, Legendary Chimera, Smiling Cat, WargishBoromirFan, Falling Knight, Sonar, Dailenna, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	34. Storm in a Teacup

I don't own FMA

**Day 34 - Dream**

-:-:-:-

Buccaneer couldn't help but grin at the staring contest taking place between mother and daughter.

A woman in a practical black dress rolled a cart into the room and silently poured a cup of steaming tea for each woman. On her way out she held up a cup to him in question and he shook his head.

The quiet squeak of the wheels had nearly faded away when Olivier opened her mouth. "You wanted to see me?"

Augustina nodded and blew on her tea.

Just when it seemed her oldest was about to grow impatient she took a sip of her tea and held her index finger to silence the complaints she knew rested behind those pouty pink lips.

She smiled over her cup at the impatience building in those icy blue eyes.

Olivier curled her hands around the warm teacup and watched as her mother put the cup back down on a saucer.

Augustina sighed.

Olivier leaned back in her chair, ready for the impending lecture. Private tea always meant a lecture.

When she'd loped off Alex's hair when it got longer than hers, when she'd thrown a fit after Führer Sparkles had disappeared, when she'd refused to go to an all girls school, when she'd signed up for the military academy, always a private tea with mother afterward.

A storm in a teacup is what her father called it.

She knew the rules, knew her mother wouldn't speak until after she'd taken a drink of the tea set in front of her.

She had two choices, either take a sip and let the storm begin, or let her tea go untouched and deal with the silent treatment for weeks. The second option was so very tempting, but she could already feel the nagging of her sisters and Alex for her to fix things if she chose that path.

She delicately lifted the piece of china to her lips, holding out her pinky finger in a mocking imitation of her mother.

As the warm liquid filled her mouth with the flavor of spiced oranges, she closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes, her mother's had narrowed and her fingers were laced together, hands resting on the table.

Olivier rolled her eyes. Those looks didn't work on her anymore, though she did owe her ability to give blood-freezing glares to her mother(something she'd never tell her, of course).

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Augustina scolded.

Olivier raised a brow in challenge.

"I don't know why I even bother with you!" her mother huffed as she threw her arms up in agitation.

Olivier opened her mouth to agree, but her mother continued, "When I first held you, I dreamt of the day you would debut, of the man who would ask your father and me for your hand in marriage, they day you would so loving look upon the firstborn you held in your arms. I dreamt the same things for each of your sisters. And where did all that dreaming get me with you?"

"You're dreaming, not mi-"

"To you corrupting your younger sister, that's where," she huffed, cutting off Olivier.

Olivier shrugged. "I didn't pressure her," she argued.

"But you let her get inebriated!"

"It's not like she said no. She took each drink of her own free will."

"She got sick in the car and on the porch. Allen's family is here. What if they had been awake to see that?" Augustina demanded through clenched teeth.

"I'm sure they would have rejoiced that Allen hadn't picked that particular sister," Olivier remarked.

Trying to muffle his laughter, Buccaneer snorted.

"And you!" Augustina hissed glaring at him. "Don't think that you're not to blame, too!"

His mouth worked open and closed, trying to respond, but that look was just as piercing as her daughter's.

"Some guard you are! Catherine told me you were drinking. What if someone had attacked you two on your way back to Laurel's?" she demanded.

"I...I...sorry," he stammered, shame a burning weight in his stomach.

Tension he hadn't even realized had filled his muscles left his body as that gaze turned back to his commanding officer.

"I told Arm-e you must have had an ulterior motive, and I know what it was. You wanted to taint her innocence," she accused. "You knew she's enamored with him, and that she would drink to try and calm her nerves."

Feeling the need to defend herself, Olivier opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again when her mother took a sip of tea.

Olivier silently sighed and followed suit.

"Now, you're going to take your sister some water and the aspirin Alex was so kind as to fetch for her and apologize to her. And you," she focused on Buccaneer again, "will assure her that she didn't make a fool of herself," she ordered.

He nodded.

Augustina looked between the two and, after deciding that they would do as told, left the room by the door that lead to the library.

Olivier let out a long sigh as the door swung shut behind her mother.

"You're just like her," Buccaneer observed, still in awe.

"No I'm not!" Olivier snapped.

"Did you see that glare?"

"Well, that I did learn from her," she admitted as she walked out the door to his right.

In the hall on the wrought-iron table that usually held a vase of flowers from the garden sat a perspiring pitcher of water, a glass, and an envelope with Alex's extravagant hand-writing.

Olivier rolled her eyes as she shoved the envelope in her pocket.

With the pitcher and glass in her hands, she made her way to Catherine's room.

She rapped on the door with her elbow, grinning at the weak moan she could barely make out through the door.

"I'm coming in," she warned.

The room was dark, all the curtains still shutting out the daylight. She assumed the lump under the blankets was her hungover sister.

"Not so loud," Catherine groaned, poking her pale face out from under the light pink comforter.

"Here." Olivier sat the pitcher and glass on the white bedside table and shook two white pills out of the envelope she'd pulled out of her pocket.

Catherine gave the pills a weary glance.

"I'm not trying to poison you," Olivier huffed. "Would you feel better if he gave them to you?" She pointed over her shoulder.

Slowly shaking her head, Catherine accepted the aspirin and glass of water Olivier had poured during their exchange.

"Alcohol is evil," she muttered after gulping down the water.

"If you don't drink it in moderation, especially the first time," Olivier agreed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Catherine whined.

Olivier shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry?" she offered, unsure she'd be able to say the word if she didn't now.

Catherine motioned for her sister to come closer, and Olivier complied, leaning over until she could hear Catherine's whisper.

"I didn't..." she gulped, sending a quick glance to Buccaneer lurking in the shadows, "...do anything foolish, did I? Arm-e and Strong-ko say I didn't, but I know you'll be honest."

"Aside from when you got home?"

Catherine nodded, going green as she recalled what happened in the car and at the porch.

"No, nothing foolish at all," she reassured. Sure, that was supposed to be Buccaneer's job, but she doubted Catherine would like him to get any closer.

Catherine managed a weak smile.

Olivier refilled the empty glass. "Just drink a lot of water," she advised and made to leave the room.

"Thanks," Catherine called.

Olivier closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment. "I wouldn't have been so nice, had I been in her position," Olivier commented as she let go of the door knob.

Buccaneer waited for her to continue, but only silence followed her words. "She's different from you," he reminded her.

She looked up at him, almost dumbstruck by the hint of fondness in his voice.

"Reminds me of my sister," he mused.

She nodded and started towards the end of the hall. He followed her, smirking at her back.

-:-:-:-

A.N. - Buccaneer, you're officially on her mother's "not so great" list. Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Silvery Mist, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Falling Knight, Griselda Banks, Smiling Cat, WargishBoromirFan, Falling Knight, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	35. Weeds

I don't own FMA

**Day 35 - Bed**

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

She didn't mind having to work to stay at her aunt's, and despite what people thought it wasn't purely because her family drove her up the wall—she didn't mind having something to make the day go by a bit faster.

Working on the task Laurel had given her of cutting and dethorning roses, she glanced over to where Buccaneer sat hunched over the bed of tulips.

He grumbled under his breath at the weeds lurking in the soil. Pulling weeds should by no means have been a challenging job, and it wouldn't have been had he been using his left hand.

He pulled and the stem broke just below the tips of his metal fingers. With an irritated sigh, he tried to grab at the weed's remaining stem, but it just got crushed between his automail fingers and he almost went tumbling backwards with the force of his tug.

Olivier set down the rose she'd just tamed with the pile of finished ones, and pulled the gloves off her hands, taking only the right glove and pinking shears with her as she picked her way over to where he sat between the flower beds.

She tapped him on the shoulder with the shears.

It was the surprise in his eyes that gave away the intensity of concentration he was using to master how much pressure he was applying to the stem of the weed he was working on. For a moment, she thought he'd gotten it, but only the top of the weed came up with his hand.

"Having trouble?" she asked.

He grunted and tore at the smashed stem and its roots from the ground with his left hand. "No."

She frowned down at him as he worked on the next weed—his left hand again. She sat down next to him. He looked over at her with a brow raised in question as he tugged up another weed.

"Why don't you go get pricked by thorns for a while," she suggested shoving the shears at him.

He ignored her and pulled up another weed. She poked at his arm with the shears.

He grunted and hesitantly took the shears from her.

As she pulled up one weed after the other, she realized working for her aunt all those years ago had been more inspirational than she'd thought.

"I'm putting a greenhouse in the plans for Briggs," she called over her shoulder to Buccaneer.

She smirked as the sound of the shears slicing off thorns quieted. "Just produce. It'll help new recruits see why keeping out weeds is vital to having a good crop," she explained.

Buccaneer laughed and went back to clipping the thorns off roses.

"You could always tell them, 'Kill the potatoes and you won't be eating any for a week'," Laurel added as she joined them.

Olivier looked over at her aunt. "I like the sound of that."

Laurel grinned. "It's the only just punishment for anyone who ruins a good harvest, but you'd have to make sure you've got an an excellent heating system for a greenhouse up there," she advised.

**'-.'-.-'-.-'**

**A.N.** - Short, but it's been giving me trouble and this works. To be honest, a certain chapter discouraged from writing these characters for a while. Thanks for reading.

Thanks for reviewing: GerealFullmetal, AnkoxKakashilover, 4cherryblossoms, Legendary Chimera Silvery Mist, Dailenna, Falling Knight, Griselda Banks, Smiling Cat, WargishBoromirFan, Falling Knight, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	36. With a Bit of Pouting

I don't own FMA

**Day 36 - Together**

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

Olivier growled as she struggled at tying a bow around a bouquet of lilies. The boy watched her with skeptical eyes. She threw the blue ribbon away and used her sword to cut another piece of ribbon from the roll.

The boy's eyes went wide. "Cool," he breathed.

"Much better than scissors," she agreed, as she looked back to her distraction across the room.

"Never thought you'd learn so much about flowers while being Livi's bodyguard, did you?" Catherine asked as she followed Buccaneer around while he changed the water in the buckets of flowers.

Olivier huffed as she untied another horribly made bow.

Buccaneer glanced over at her and Catherine followed his gaze.

"Do you want me to do that?" Catherine asked as she made her way behind the counter with Olivier.

"I got it," Olivier snapped as she finally managed to get the ribbon wrapped around the bouquet and tied into a proper bow.

"Wow, it's so pretty," Catherine clapped in congratulations, genuinely surprised her older sister even knew the basics of bow-tying.

Olivier rolled her eyes and passed the lilies off to the boy.

"He's so handsome," Catherine murmured.

Olivier was surprised for a moment, but then she realized Catherine was staring at Buccaneer, not the boy. She shook her head and stalked away to the back room where Laurel kept all the vases, ribbon, and wrapping.

Catherine followed after her.

"What?" Olivier demanded, sensing her sister's eyes boring into her back.

"Is it true?" Catherine asked hesitantly as she nervously played with a roll of pink ribbon.

Olivier raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Is what true?"

Buccaneer poked his head in the room and Olivier shook her head. Catherine looked over her shoulder, but he'd already moved out of view. She started wrapping the pink ribbon back onto its spool.

Olivier eyed her as she fidgeted. "Well?" she grunted.

"At breakfast today, Father mentioned Aunt Laurel left on a trip to go meet a new supplier," Catherine began, looking occasionally from the ribbon to Olivier. "And…and that you two will be staying at her house alone…together."

"And?" Olivier said indifferently.

Catherine stopped playing with the ribbon and looked her sister in the eyes. "I..I thought, maybe, I could stay at Aunt Laurel's with you."

Olivier shook her head.

"Or I could help you two with running the flower shop," she pleaded.

"No, she's got plenty of staff."

Catherine stuck out her bottom lip and pouted.

"That doesn't work on me," Olivier reminded her.

"But it works on Mother and Father," she threatened.

Olivier scowled. "You can help in the shop, but I'll make up a schedule for you. Be late or leave early and don't come back," she hissed.

Catherine grinned and practically bounced back into the shop front.

Olivier smirked as she grabbed up a pen and made a hasty schedule, making sure to schedule Catherine to come in just before she and Buccaneer would leave the shop. That would teach the girl she couldn't always get her way by pouting and batting her eyelashes.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

A.N. - Next chapter calls for some reminiscing! Young!Olivier is ready to take the limelight for a little bit. X3 Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: wargishBoromirFan, GerealFullmetal, AnkoxKakashilover, 4cherryblossoms, Legendary Chimera Silvery Mist, Dailenna, Falling Knight, Griselda Banks, Smiling Cat, Falling Knight, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	37. Old Photographs

I don't own FMA

Also, don't let today's prompt fool you, it's not getting steamy.

**Day 37 - Sex**

'-.-'-.-'-.-'**  
**

Olivier had never before in her entire life wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Never. Until now.

"I really only have myself to blame," her father admitted as he pointed to a yellowing black and white photo of her five-year-old self running around in nothing but one of the ridiculously fluffy skirts her mother had made her wear.

Buccaneer couldn't help but laugh as he took in the page of photographs. "I always thought our first would be a boy, and there were some complications when she was born, so we didn't know if we'd be able to have more," Phillip explained as he turned the page of the album.

Olivier's eyes widened in horror as she spotted the photograph that had captured her tearing her shirt off.

"Armstrong men have always revealed their muscle before a fight—just to make sure their opponents understand who they're tangling with," her mother interrupted.

Buccaneer nodded, remembering all the times Olivier had taken off her jacket before sparring practice or fencing bouts.

"I thought it was adorable at first, my little Livi fulfilling Armstrong tradition so well," Phillip said, a goofy grin hiding behind his mustache.

"But it just isn't proper for a lady to go stripping off her shirt," Augustina admonished.

"Exactly what you told me all those years ago, my dear," he recalled, twisting the end of his mustache as he looked down at the photographs with a fond twinkle in his eyes. "The problem was, she was at that age where she was testing us."

"She never quite grew out of that phase," Augustina remarked, sending her daughter a reproachful look.

Olivier rolled her eyes and turned away as she folded her arms across her chest indifferently.

"The more we discouraged her, the more she did it, and when she started school the teachers found it quite troublesome. And you know children, always trying to one-up each other—"

"I couldn't show my face in public for weeks without having to hear about how other children had taken to stripping during playtime. It was mortifying. I started putting her in dresses, but she didn't care, she'd just take the whole thing off!" Augustina took over for her husband.

"It caused quite a commotion among our friends and acquaintances," Phillip added.

"That's when Uncle Heath stepped in, wasn't it?" Alex asked as he joined them, still in his uniform.

"He didn't know he was helping at first. We'd just found out I was pregnant with Arm-e and when Heath and Laurel come over to celebrate, he was still in uniform. Olivier fell in love with his sword, especially after he showed her a few moves. She pestered him to teach her, and suddenly, we had a solution."

"If she kept her shirt on, she could take lessons from him," Phillip boomed as he flipped to next page.

Buccaneer chuckled as a little sparring sword started showing up in the photographs.

"Then, she started wearing pants. At first, only for practice, and then practically every day," Augustina huffed.

"And now it's not so uncommon anymore, Mother," Olivier shot back. "We've got to head back," she said as she got to her feet.

"Take this with you," Phillip insisted, as he closed the album and shoved it into Buccaneer's hands.

Buccaneer grinned, glad for the chance to get to look through the rest of the photographs. "C'mon," Olivier grunted as she took her coat from the maid who'd scurried up to her.

Alex looked from his mother to Olivier. "I'll walk them out," he offered, practically running ahead of them before Olivier could protest.

Once they got to the porch, he took hold of her arm. "Did they remind you about tomorrow?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Tomorrow night Mother is throwing a surprise party for Fathers birthday. Father heard Allen's father loves archery, so we're going to lunch and then to he archery range at the edge of town. We're planning to be back around nineteen hundred hours," he explained.

Olivier nodded, surprised that no had told her about the party until now.

"I thought Mother sent an invitation months ago. We didn't know how we were going to get him out of the house until last week."

Her confusion cleared as she remembered tossing out the envelope with her mother's writing on it.

Silence fell between them, and Olivier left Buccaneer standing on the porch with her brother.

"You should wear what you got on the way here, it's going to be a big party," Alex told him.

Buccaneer nodded and hurried after Olivier.

As they crossed the street to Laurel's house, she slowed her pace. "I didn't get him anything," she grumbled.

"Huh?" Buccaneer asked, not quite hearing her.

"For his birthday, I didn't get him anything," she repeated.

"Oh," he breathed, understanding why she'd snapped at a man who'd barely nudged her when they'd walked past one another.

"'Oh,' doesn't quite describe it," she said flippantly.

"We could find something tomorrow," he suggested, shifting the album from where it was tucked under his right arm to his left as he opened the gate for her.

Her only response was to open the door and head upstairs to her room. He flipped on the hallway light, pulled the door closed, locked it, and followed her up the stairs.

Pipes moaned as she started the shower. He kicked off his boots, tugged off his jacket, and flopped down in his bed with the album in his hands.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

Olivier sat at the edge of her bed, toweling her hair dry when he knocked on the door frame.

She looked over at Buccaneer and frowned when she saw the photo album in his hands, his thumb tucked between two pages. "Hmm?"

He opened the album as he sat down next to her. "This is the picture that was on your office door, wasn't it?" he asked.

She stared at him for a moment. "Who told you," she growled, quite sure she wouldn't have had to discover the photograph with the help of Robertson's buddies if Buccaneer had seen it then.

"Can't remember," he lied.

She pulled at his mustache. "Do I have to make it an order, Lieutenant?" she hissed, pulling him closer as she tugged harder.

"Someone was talking about it in the mess hall, I wasn't really paying attention," he lied again.

Olivier released him—she'd just have to interrogate Miles when they returned.

"Did you have a point?" she huffed as he rubbed his upper lip.

"Your dad really loves these old photographs of you," he began.

"Unfortunately," she agreed.

"So, if they have this one in here and they sent one," he went on.

"The negatives are still around," she finished for him. "I can get some reprinted and framed."

He grinned.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

A.N. - X3 I thought I'd have to use one of my options to replace this prompt, but it was easy to find a way to work it after some brainstorming and thinking on conversations about her name. Next an excellent birthday party! Thanks for reading.

Thanks for reviewing: AnkoxKakashilover, Gurren-San, Falling Knight, WargishBoromirFan, GerealFullmetal, 4cherryblossoms, Legendary Chimera Silvery Mist, Dailenna, Griselda Banks, Smiling Cat, Falling Knight, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	38. Birthday Suite

I don't own FMA

**Day 38 - Birthday**

'-.-'-.-'-.-'**  
**

As the door closed behind another departing guest, Olivier found quite an unfamiliar feeling building in her stomach.

Her face twisted into a scowl at the sinking sensation and she looked from the door to the other side of the room where Buccaneer stood with Catherine at his side, probably talking his ear off.

He shook his head and Catherine stuck out her lips in a pout.

Olivier's scowl transformed into a smirk.

"She's quite determined, isn't she?" a voice asked from beside her.

Olivier scowled again. "A family trait," she hissed, not bothering to look in Maes' direction.

"Passed down from generation to generation?" he asked, not missing a beat.

"Maes," a voice scolded.

Olivier finally looked over at him. "My wife, Gracia," he introduced. "Gracia, General Olivier Armstrong."

The woman's green eyes lit up as she smiled and offered her hand.

She gave the woman a quick handshake and briefly wondered if the woman knew of her husband's photo obsession.

At the thought, Olivier recognized the strange sensation that had been making her stomach turn—dread. Dread at being seen as a sentimental fool. She couldn't let those framed photographs be her gift. She shook her head, not quite sure what had possessed her to go through with something saccharine, so soft, so completely and utterly traditional.

Without a second's hesitation she whirled around and marched toward the hall, leaving the couple staring after her as she left the party.

She paused at the foot of the stairs as Buccaneer called to her.

"You were able to shake her," she observed, lips turning up with the hint of an amused smirk.

"We could use her for stealth training," he joked, trying to ease the tension he felt in her gaze.

She gave a dry chuckle and continued up the staircase.

He followed just paces behind her as she navigated the hallways of the mansion which would have been a maze to him without her in the lead.

She rapped on a door.

"Where are we?" he asked, but she held up a hand to silence him as she glanced up and down the hall.

She slowly opened the door and then pulled him into the dark room after her.

He blinked away spots as the light flickered on and noticed a table piled with gifts in the center of the bedroom.

She motioned for him to follow her to the table. "If I ever try to give such a sappy gift again, have me admitted to the hospital without delay," she growled as she started moving aside the mountain of presents. "Now help me find it," she snapped when he didn't respond.

"Why aren't they opened during the party?" he asked as he moved aside a particularly large gift wrapped in shimmering pink paper.

She shrugged her shoulders—it was just the way it was done. "He only ever opens gifts in front of the family."

The sound of shifting boxes around took over their conversation, until she gave a cry of triumph and held up a set of set of slim packages wrapped in blue paper and tied together with silver ribbon.

"You're father would like it," he reminded her.

She laughed as she started towards the door. "I would never live it down," she argued. He followed her back out into the hall and let her lead him away in a different direction then they'd come by.

She froze as she heard laughter and footsteps down the hall.

"In here," she ordered, opening a door to her left.

"Quiet," she ordered, pulling him further into the dark room as the door clicked shut behind them.

By the time they stopped, his eyes had partially adjusted to the dark and he could make out a vague outline of Olivier standing just in front of him. As the seconds passed by, he noticed her outline radiated with the alertness she always held in battle.

She seemed to stiffen for a moment, and just when he'd began to think he'd imagined the stiffness, he heard footsteps and then the door creaked open.

Giggles filled the room, and he silently tensed up waiting for the lights to flicker on. His mind filled with the conclusions his family would jump to if they found him in a dark room with his commanding officer. Surely, hers would make the same assumptions.

"No, keep them off. We know this room well enough," said a husky voice, one he almost recognized.

The tension seeped out of his body, but now his cheeks heated. Surely this room had been chosen by the mystery couple for a reason.

"As the birthday boy wishes."

Recognition flashed through his head and he reached up to cover his ears. He couldn't think of a worse situation to have gotten himself into. Alone in a dark room with Oliver and her parents about to…he couldn't even think it.

"Boy! You dare call me boy," Phillip boomed.

Olivier pinched herself to make sure she wasn't having some sort of heinous nightmare.

"Put me down," Augustina demanded through a fit of giggles.

Olivier cringed. She had to get out of there. She yanked on Buccaneer's sleeve and followed the wall back to the door.

She bit back a curse as she bumped into a table.

Silence filled the room.

"Who's there?" her father called out gruffly.

"Sorry, I was just coming back for the sheets, I left the old ones in here when I changed them," she said, pitching her voice a bit higher than usual.

"Glad you remembered about my usual present. Go and fetch us the birthday champagne, leave it on the table in the hall," Augustina ordered, not a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"Yes, Ma'am." Olivier navigated her way around the table and to the door, yanking on Buccaneer's sleeve to lead him in the right direction.

Part of her worried that her parents would ask questions when they saw two people leave the room instead of just one. Hopefully the hall wasn't lit so bright their silhouettes would stand out too much.

Once they were safely in the hall without incident, she heaved a sigh of relief and stormed down the hallway with Buccaneer in tow.

She only slowed upon seeing a maid wandering the halls. "Birthday champagne outside the birthday suite," Olivier snapped.

"Right away, Miss," the maid said as she gave a quick curtsy.

Olivier growled at the retreating maid. Apparently everyone knew about her parent's little tradition.

"If you would have just left your gift—"

"If you even try to convince me to go put this back, I will shave off that ridiculous mowhawk and mustache of yours," she threatened.

"I wouldn't if my life depended on it," he promised, still trying to shake the events of the "birthday suite" from his head.

Olivier had just managed to chuck the gift into her room when Alex called out to her. "Livi, Bucky, help me send off the last of the guests," he boomed.

"It's about time we left, too," Olivier told him.

"But Father will be opening gifts soon," Alex argued.

Olivier repressed a cringe. "You can fill me in on all the excitement tomorrow," she said, her tone daring him to press the issue.

Alex stared after them, at a loss for words, as she and Buccaneer left him standing in the hall alone.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

A.N. - Roughly 1210 words for you! Some figurative rainstorms have been impeding my writing time, and I'll be going out of state next week to help my grandfather get everything ready move in with us in May, so I'll be disappearing for a short while. If I can crank out another chapter before I leave, I'll post it, but it's not a sure thing. Also, I'm pretty sure that Olivier is now going to try and give me nightmares for writing this. Thanks for reading!

Thanks for reviewing: Koosha, 4cherryblossoms, SilverRainFalls, AnkoxKakashilover, Gurren-San, GerealFullmetal, Griselda Banks, Falling Knight, WargishBoromirFan, Legendary Chimera Silvery Mist, Dailenna, Griselda Banks, Smiling Cat, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	39. Secret Admirer

I don't own FMA

**Day 39 - Enemies**

**'-.-'-.-'-.-'  
**

Olivier wasn't sure what she had walked into, but surely something had happened to put the whole house in a tizzy. Doormen gossiped behind gloved hands and maids huddled together in whispering pairs.

"Oh, Livi, it's wonderful," Catherine called as she bound down the steps to greet them.

Olivier gave her sister a puzzled glance. "They finally chose a venue?" she asked, not taking up her sister's cheer.

Catherine shook her head.

Alex rushed in from the hall and nearly tackled Olivier in a hug, but she sidestepped just in time and he captured Catherine.

She made to leave the two rejoicing in the hall, but as they followed her.

Her eyes widened as she saw the slim packages of blue held together with silver ribbon taking up the space on the table just in front of where she usually sat for breakfast.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

Augustina gave a reproachful glare and raised her hand to summon the maid standing at the doors.

"A gift from an admirer left in your room," the maid said hesitantly as she ventured into the room.

"Maybe another marriage is in order!" Phillip boomed.

Olivier scowled as she picked up the parcel. "If he has no courage to present it to me himself, then he has no chance," she declared and made her way around the table to the fireplace.

Alex, knowing what she was about to do, leapt around the other side of the table, and caught the gift just before it was met by flames.

"It takes much courage to give a woman a gift, especially the first time around," Phillip boomed, giving Augustina a loving look as he got lost in his memories.

Olivier scowled and made to grab it back from Alex, but he darted out of her reach.

"If you open it, perhaps there will be a clue to the identity of your admirer," Catherine murmured.

Olivier scoffed. "And if I throw it in the fire, maybe the admirer will hear about it. Then we just have to look for someone pouting or complaining about the pitfalls of romance," she countered.

"If you're not going to open it, I will," Alex announced, fingers already tugging at the silver ribbon.

Olivier narrowed here eyes, but refrained from leaping at him. After all, that would make her look desperate.

"Fight me. You win, I'll open it. I win, it goes in the fire."

Alex's eyes hardened as he nodded in agreement.

Olivier smirked.

"Well then, shall we all go outside?" Phillip asked through a grin.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

"Well done, Livi," Phillip boomed, clapping her on the back as she sheathed her sword.

"Brother, are you all right?" Catherine inquired as she kneeled next to him on the grass.

Alex gave her a weary smile, and she helped him to his feet. He leaned on her for support as they walked back into the house.

Buccaneer's eyes widened as the girl shouldered her brother's weight without showing any sign of difficulty.

Phillip caught the soldier's surprise. "She's quite strong," he said through a chuckle.

Alex looked sorrowful as he handed Olivier the gift.

"This could make you an enemy," Augustina warned her.

Olivier rolled her eyes. "I have a whole country of enemies, one more won't be a bother," she huffed as she threw the "secrets admirer's" present into the fireplace.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

**A.N.** - Thanks for reading. Only 21 more chapters to go!

Thanks for reviewing:Mirage992, Silvery Mist, AnkocKakashilover, GerealFullmetal, Gurren-san, Koosha, 4cherryblossoms, SilverRainFalls, Griselda Banks, Falling Knight, WargishBoromirFan, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!


	40. Not So Fond Thoughts

**Day 40 - Memories**

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

Catherine winced as she watched Olivier hack away at the flower stems.

"What's wrong, Livi?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing. Everything is perfectly fine," she hissed, shoving the arrangement into a vase.

"Oh, sorry," Catherine said as she left her older sister to her own devices.

Olivier frowned. Catherine's curiosity had just made it worse. Now, instead of trying to forget, all she could do was think about Mustang invading her fort, presiding over her men. She knew she could trust Miles to keep him from causing too much trouble, but it still irritated her that he was at Briggs and she was in Central.

"I hope an icicle falls on him," she muttered.

Buccaneer chuckled from the other side of the counter. "Maybe he'll lose an arm."

"Or his life," she hissed.

"That would be too easy," he reasoned.

She nodded, glad he couldn't see her smile.

She finished another arrangement, and then straightened up. "Now that Catherine's here, we can leave the rest to her."

He clumsily untied the apron, only to have Catherine approach him. "You're leaving?" she pouted.

"Yes, we're leaving for the day. Aunt Laurel's garden needs tending, and we have other matters to attend to," Olivier snapped.

"The shop closes in a couple hours, I could come help with the gardening," she offered.

"No, we'll manage just fine."

Catherine's shoulders slumped in defeat at her sister's snappy tone."Well, don't forget to come home for dinner," she called as they walked towards the door.

Buccaneer gave her a wave over his shoulder as they left.

-x-x-x-

Buccaneer watched from across the back yard as Olivier tore viciously at the weeds.

He cleared his throat, and she looked over at him.

"What's the history between you and Mustang?" he asked, half-expecting her to throw her sword at him.

She grumbled down into the dirt for a moment. "There is no history."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like Drachma there isn't."

"Drop it, First Liuetenant," she ordered icily.

"I'm sure I could ask your brother," he thought aloud.

She scowled, knowing that her family would blame the animosity on Mustang tearing the head off of her favorite teddy bear as a child. "He stole a great sniper right out from under my nose," she confessed.

"Hawkeye?" Buccaneer guessed. Her skills were infamous even from the short time she spent at Briggs during the joint training, and she always seemed to regard Olivier with mixed feeling.

Olivier nodded, scowling at the memory of Hawkeye turning down the offer to be stationed at Briggs.

"She's the one that can hardly defend herself against a sword, right?"

Olivier nodded.

"Useless," he muttered, glad to cheer her up even the slightest bit.

"Not cut out for Briggs at all," she added, chuckling to herself as she recalled past sparring matches with the sniper.

'-.-'-.-'-.-'

A.N. Yes, that's right Doom and the Wedding is baaaack! I'm so glad to be writing again! Look below for an omake inspired by the FMA Brotherhood outtakes! Also, the tidbit about Riza being horrible with a sword comes from _Spinning Out Verse_, a universe that Bizzy and I co-authored when thinking on why Olivier hates Roy. You can find our stories under the penname TheCrazyStaffers.

Thanks for reviewing: PassingByStander, Skye8055, Sandanio, Mew Phong, Hollowmist, TheZhalia, KaguraTheWindGypsy, Winterkaguya, SakR9, My-name-is-foxglove, Black Convoy, Satchiro, GerealFullmetal, Koosha, AnkoxKakashilover Mirage992, Silvery Mist, Gurren-san, 4cherryblossoms, SilverRainFalls, Griselda Banks, Falling Knight, WargishBoromirFan, Legendary Chimera, Dailenna, Smiling Cat, Sonar, Firing Rockets on Dragons, Tammertime, Bar-Ohki, WhiteKnight, WhiteLadyoftheRing, Ruingaraf, Chaotic Lullaby, YourFavouitePlushie, Bizzy, Yun Min, MoonStarDutchess, Olmos, Crystal Mage, InuJoey, The Flaming Bitch Alchemist, and Kookith!

**Chapter Omake/Parody:**

"Don't forget to come home for dinner, the cooks are making stew," Catherine called.

Olivier frowned. How had Catherin guessed it?

"Fuck yeah," Buccaneer cheered, grinning at the prospect of having his favorite dish for dinner.

"All right, we'll be there," Olivier called over her shoulder, knowing that if she didn't agree to go, Buccaneer would sulk for the entire evening.


End file.
